They're Changing
by SamanthaRose
Summary: There was something different about this Hunter, something strange... It was becoming very obvious that something in the infected was changing. Zoey X Hunter Now with Chapter Titles!
1. Scene 1: At First Sight

It was raining that day when Bill woke them, and Zoey found herself longing to curl up under the blankets again and sleep a few hours more, just in case the rain would stop or the 'zombie apocalypse' would be over when she woke again. She knew as well as the others, though, that she had to continue forward and hopefully reach the area where evacuations out of the city were still occurring.

Zoey pulled the hood of her jacket up as they crawled out of the saferoom and into the pouring rain outside, her pistols already out and her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of the infected.

It was hard not to think of them as just mindless zombies… she knew that once they had been people just like they were, and she knew they were just sick, but it didn't stop them from killing every single one they came across.

Francis was sticking closer to her than normal, but after the events of yesterday and their narrow escape from the tank that had attacked them, Zoey wasn't surprised. The warmth of his body was welcoming in the bitterly cold rain, and every time they brushed against one another, she was tempted not to move away.

Gunshots punctuated the darkness, the noise dulled by the rain, and the survivors were finding it a lot harder to see… this was a problem.

"We need to get to the next safe room." Bill muttered as they gathered briefly under an awning. "If we stay out here, we're nothing but bait for the infected."

"When we get there, we should wait out the storm." Louis put in, looking up at the building tops across the street from where they stood. Zoey murmured in agreement, shivering lightly in her soaked clothing.

They pressed on shortly after, not wanting to invite trouble by lingering longer than was necessary, but Zoey wondered what the point was of even trying. Twice, Francis was attacked from behind by infected that blended in with the dreary backdrop, and Louis managed to stumble right into a Witch, resulting in a heated battle that took up much of the stamina they had lingering.

They hurried onwards, finding their way into a back alley that led to another safe room, but as they ran, they could hear the sounds of an approaching horde.

"In here!" Zoey called, hurrying into a solid looking room and crouching in a far corner. The three men came in after her, peering out the door, but when Louis got snagged by a Smoker and dragged back out into the rain, Bill was quick to chase after him, leaving just Francis in the doorway, shooting the infected as they rushed forward. He glanced over his shoulder at Zoey, who stood to assist him, and shook his head.

"Stay put, alright?" He muttered, stepping out into the rain and grabbing the doorknob.

"What?!" Zoey bleated indignantly. "C'mon Francis, you know I'm not some damsel in distress!!"

"Right now, you are. So stay put!" He growled, closing the door. She heard his shotgun firing outside, heard the shouts of Bill and Louis draw closer, a snarl escaping her throat as she moved towards the door.

"Hey!" She shouted, the sound of soft growling somewhere near the door making her stop short. She reached down in the dark and fumbled with her flashlight, not making any sudden movements, her eyes adjusting to the dark well enough to show her two darkly glowing points of light that belonged to the infected that had been hiding behind the door when she came in. The growling grew louder, a little higher pitched, and she flicked the flashlight on.

Standing near the door, slightly hunched over, was a Hunter. Rain dripped from his clothing, his hands were stained darkly and from here, she could see the blood around his mouth.

He must have eaten recently… it was only a tiny hint of hope in the fear that now raged through her. None of the survivors were sure if the infected fed on human flesh, but since they were still living and breathing, they had to eat SOMETHING. Maybe the blood was just a byproduct of this particular Hunter attacking some other hapless survivor…

He turned his eyes to the door, dark eyes that caught the light from her flashlight in a way that made them glow, then he looked back at her and slowly crouched down.

Zoey didn't lower her pistols, her breath now heaving in her chest, and her legs were beginning to feel weak.

"This isn't happening." She whispered, the Hunter beginning to move closer to her now. "This isn't-"

A savage growl from the hunter silenced her, and she swallowed hard, closing her eyes.

His quick breath was hot and reeked of blood as he leaned into her, a soft noise of distress escaping her throat involuntarily. If Zoey screamed, she knew the Hunter would kill her faster than her friends could rescue her.

The Hunter let out another deep growl, snuffling against her neck and near her ear, making her whimper in terror and confusion. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, Zoey waited for the killing blow, but no pain came as she expected.

This Hunter wasn't trying to kill her.

His head snapped away from her when the voices of the men reached through the door once more, then he turned his dark eyes back to her and tilted his head to the side. Crouching down slowly, he gathered all his strength into his legs and leapt straight up into the air, disappearing into the black again. All sounds of his growling ceased, and light flooded in as Francis jerked the door open again.

His expression twisted from one of concern to a very 'I told you so' look, and he sighed shortly as he approached her. Even as he helped her gently from the room, Zoey heard no further noise from the Hunter.

For some reason, she found herself keeping quiet about the whole incident. Something told her the others wouldn't believe her, and just didn't need to know…


	2. Scene 2: Stray Dog

Bill was injured, but Louis patched him up as best he could, the four of them creeping onwards to the safe room without any further problems, making sure the old man didn't lag too far behind. Francis stuck close to Zoey once more, and none of them thought to ask questions as to why she hadn't come out to join them. It wasn't like Francis had locked the door, and they all knew she was right. She wasn't just some damsel in distress.

As they shut and locked the heavy red steel door behind themselves, collapsing in various areas of the cramped safe room, Zoey ran her fingers through her soaking wet, matted hair and closed her eyes with a sigh. Bill was eased onto the ground by Louis before the younger man went to see if he could get the gas camp stove nearby working, Zoey offering them all a reassuring smile.

She pulled her sweater off and began attempting to wring some of the water out of it, a soft noise that escaped Bill making her look over. She met his blue eyes, seeing that they regarded her calculatingly, and wondered if perhaps the old man could tell something was wrong. He was seasoned, more so than the rest of them, and he noticed little things that the others glazed over.

"What happened in that room, Zoey?" He asked softly. Francis had moved to assist Louis in cooking dinner, leaving Zoey and Bill in the corner in as much solitude as a place like this could offer. "You're covered in blood."

Zoey's hand jumped immediately to her neck, where the Hunter had pressed his face, and Bill's mouth twisted. She tried to wipe the blood away with the damp hood of her jacket, closing her eyes to avoid Bill's intense gaze, the words she spoke chosen very carefully.

"There was… an infected in there. I took care of it." She murmured, and the old man let out a chuckle that made her open her eyes. "What?"

"You've been acting strange since we left that place, Zoey. You've killed enough of them that it shouldn't bother you anymore. Whatever happened in there is bothering you, so speak up."

When Zoey's eyes darted to the others, Bill sighed and moved a bit closer, making it so she didn't have to speak so loudly. She regarded the old man for a long moment in silence, wondering if perhaps sharing the truth with him might shed some light on what was going on. Then again, he could just label her a 'crazy kid' and opt to leave her behind when the rest of them left…

Swallowing a few times, she lowered her eyes, half closing them as she wet her lips and spoke very quietly.

"There was a Hunter in there, Bill. Hiding behind the door."

"You're still alive. You sure it was a Hunter?" Bill said immediately, eyes widening, and Zoey nodded without looking at him. "Damn."

"It didn't even TRY to pounce me, Bill. It just looked at me, and… I'm not even really sure what happened. It was like he didn't care to attack me, he just wanted to know who or what I was. He was… different." Her hands were shaking, so she clenched them into fists and squeezed her eyes more tightly shut.

Bill put his hand gently on her shoulder, then on her face, turning it so she had no choice but to look at him.

"You're a bleeding heart, Zoey. You still remember more than most of us that these people are just sick. But you can't let your guard down just because they show signs of starting to change. We don't have a cure for this yet, and that Hunter might pounce you as quick as he would the rest of us. You got that?" He spoke for her ears only, her eyes filling with tears as she listened, nodding her head once to signify she understood.

Bill was probably right. Bill was usually right.

"Don't tell the others." She breathed before she could stop herself, and Bill raised an eyebrow at her. "They wouldn't understand… I wouldn't hear the end of it."

"My lips are sealed." Bill managed a smile and pulled his hand away from her face, sitting back again as he turned his eyes to the others. Francis was standing nearby, watching them with an eyebrow arched and his mouth twisted into a nasty smirk.

"Am I interrupting something?" He drawled, Zoey's cheeks flushing furiously while Bill just offered Francis a rude gesture and a muttered insult. "Alright then. Dinner's ready."

…

…

…

Bill was on first watch that night, a decision based on the fact that he was waiting for the pain pills he had taken for his injury to kick in before he could even think about sleep. He regarded the others as they lay curled beneath blankets and jackets, all of them uncomfortable in their still damp clothes but exhausted enough to find sleep easily enough.

He could hear the muttering of the infected outside the safe room, every so often hearing the shuffling gait of a Smoker or the thundering footsteps of a Boomer somewhere amongst them. There was no growling or roaring, no keening cries of anguish, so the worst of what waited out there for them wasn't anywhere nearby. It was a comforting thought.

Standing to shake the stiffness out of his bones, Bill wandered to one of the windows, peering out into the dimness through the still falling rain. He could see shapes moving vaguely in the distance, the lopsided form and cancer ridden face of a Smoker peering over at him from a building nearby. It gave a spluttering cry and disappeared from view, Bill making a mental note to warn the others about it later.

Zoey was thrashing a little in her sleep, her breathing irregular, but when Francis stirred and rolled over, his arm falling across her, she settled a little and fell into a more normal sleep, Bill's mouth turning down.

He didn't like that she was being so effected by this. He didn't like that she was involved in any of this at all. She was just a kid compared to the rest of them, and while she could hold her own in this hell on earth, it was something she was never meant to have seen first hand. Let her watch all the movies she wants, he thought to himself, just don't let her live it, for the love of God.

The sound of shuffling footsteps outside drew his attention to the window again, and when he looked out he found himself meeting a pair of dark eyes peering from behind a nearby car, his heart beginning to pound a little faster.

The Hunter crawled cautiously forward when he didn't raise his weapon, tilting his hooded face to one side so that Bill could see it in the light shining from a street lamp nearby. Sharp teeth were bared in a grimace, and he held one clawed hand off the ground as he crouched in front of the safe room, a soft growl rumbling from deep in his chest.

"Just like a damn dog. A damn stray dog." Bill muttered, mouth twisting. "Shoo! Go on, get out of here. Don't make me shoot you."

Part of him wondered if he should shoot the Hunter, put him out of his misery. It would make things at once easier and harder, because he KNEW Zoey would never understand if she found out. Another part of him screamed to just do it, knowing that this was definitely going to come back to bite him on the ass.

The Hunter let out another growl, this one louder and closer to the surface, then he leapt easily out of view, Bill releasing a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding.

Something told him this was going to become more of a problem than they needed… but maybe Zoey was right. There was definitely something different about this Hunter.


	3. Scene 3: Teamwork

Sleep came easily enough for him if he shut out all the sounds and smells that surrounded him and closed his eyes. The rooftops weren't comfortable, not that comfort was something he worried about anymore, and the spot he had chosen kept him close enough to the band of humans he was tracking without being directly in sight of them.

Their weapons could pierce him easily, cause him harm, and he had seen more than his fair share of corpses these days, be it human or infected.

He didn't care about the rain either, it wasn't too much of a bother except for how it dampened scents and made surfaces a bit more slippery than he would like when he was trying to travel long distances quickly. The sound of the rain was constant, as were the mutters of his infected brothers and sisters all around him, and the sound was enough to lull him into sleep.

He slept lightly, enough to rest and recover, but not deeply enough to miss the grating sound of the door the humans hid behind wrenching open a few hours later. Rolling to his feet, he arched his back in a stretch and shook himself vigorously, shuffling to the edge of the roof to peek at the humans below.

All four of them were on their feet, which pleased him. He had seen after the encounter the day before that one of them was injured, but the injury obviously wouldn't stop them from reaching their next destination. It might, however, hinder them in a way that might require his help.

He could care less about humans most of the time. To most of the infected, they were a walking food supply, but with the city still being filled with food that hadn't spoiled in the two weeks since he had awakened, he didn't lower himself to devouring humans for nourishment. The humans he tracked now, he probably wouldn't have cared about either…

If it weren't for the one he had been trapped in a room with the day before. She hadn't attempted to shoot him, she hadn't backed away from him when he crept closer, and though she carried the prickly scent of fear with his approach, there was a curious light in her eyes.

Breathing in deeply, he let out a low, rumbling growl. He could smell her easily above all the other scents crowding the area they stood in. It mingled with gunpowder, fear and anger, hatred, hunger and need, and it was enough to make his head spin.

He made a clumsy jump from his rooftop to the one across from him, the rain making him lose his footing and the yelp that escaped him drawing the attention of the tallest of the males in the group. His gun was always the quickest to fire, and it wasn't uncommon to see him chase one of the infected that was keen on retreating, at least from what he had seen the day before. If that particular human saw him, he had no doubt in his mind he wouldn't live long enough to even scream, the thought making him shudder. He wondered if perhaps the time would come that he would have to face that human, and knew it would be best to kill him quickly if it ever did.

His stomach was growling, and he decided it would be best to find food now and quickly pick up the trail again afterwards, knowing the humans wouldn't stop travelling until they had found another safe place to rest. Humans were capable of travelling very quickly when they wanted to.

Growling again, he turned to a boarded window and easily tore the boards down with his sharp claws, using his whole body to break the glass. His launch brought him a little too close to one of the other infected, a lesser that made the mistake of attacking him for his indiscretion, and those same sharp claws brought an end to the lesser's existence without much resistance. He snarled at the other lessers in the room, but none of them were stupid enough to repeat the mistake, leaving him to move through the building unhindered in his search for nourishment.

…

…

…

"Saw a Smoker out here earlier, keep on your toes people." Bill muttered, Louis' eyes immediately going to the roof tops and Francis turning to walk backwards so he could keep an eye out behind them as well.

Zoey had her pistols out, her hood pulled up over her head in a feeble attempt to ward off the still pouring rain, and Bill saw the dark circles standing out more pronounced around her blue eyes, his mouth once again turning down.

As they moved on through the wet dimness of morning, peppering the relative silence with bursts of gunfire, the sound of growling kept making both Bill and Zoey's heads snap from one side to the other, and several times Bill could swear he saw a dark shape fly gracefully through the air to the side of them. He hoped that Hunter wasn't stupid enough to continue following them, and hoped that if he was, Zoey wouldn't have any outbursts that would cause the other two men to question her.

They didn't have as much faith in Zoey as Bill did, after all.

"Smoker!" Zoey suddenly shouted, all guns swivelling in the direction she pointed in time to see the lingering smoke trail disappear over the side of the roof again. "Damn… those things are too smart for their own good."

"That's bad news for us, let's keep moving." Bill replied, urging the others forward. They were more on alert now, knowing the Smoker was so close, but they saw no more traces of it and moved on without incident. The next stretch of road was littered with infected that rushed towards them upon seeing their flashlights and their faster movement, but they were easy enough to pick off without them being able to deal too much damage.

Zoey could feel the bruises that lingered from their many encounters with such swarms, trying to be as good a shot as she could so that she wouldn't get more.

Louis had backed up near an open door, picking them off while standing behind it, screaming curses almost as loudly as Francis was, the older male's shotgun bellowing somewhere to his left.

Something came out of the door he stood by, and he looked up in surprise at the towering figure, eyes widening in horror when he saw it was the same Smoker that had been tracking them. Up close, the skin on the Smoker's face was grey and leathery, the tumors that covered half of it obscured its eye and gave it a deformed look that went well with the way it stood slightly sideways.

The thing looked as surprised to see him as he was to see it, but it recovered more quickly than Louis could and raised one clawed hand to strike. Louis let out a cry of alarm and turned his face away with eyes closed, a hand closing on the back of his shirt and tugging him backwards so the claws only grazed the arm holding his gun, opening the flesh up regardless and making blood blossom over the once white fabric.

Bill's face was stern when he looked down at Louis, who had fallen over from the sudden tug backwards, using his assault rifle to gun the Smoker down before it could do anymore damage and growling loudly to be heard over the gun's chatter.

"Stick. TOGETHER."

Louis nodded, allowing Bill to help him up and making his way with the old man through the smoke to join the others. The rest of the infected had been taken care of, and as a group of four once more, they moved up the street and towards some buildings to look for shelter.

When they all stopped just inside an empty warehouse, Zoey forced Louis to sit down and began patching up his arm with something from her med-kit, all of them taking a moment to catch their breath.

…

…

…

He watched them all fighting, watched them move into the empty warehouse to recover before moving on, the scent of blood sure to attract unwanted attention. Crouching on the highest point of a roof facing the building they had disappeared into, he strained his eyes to see through the rain, the bubbling growl that escaped him coming constantly now.

He had been too slow to stop his long tongued brother from chasing them, caught up in feeding himself, and he was lucky that no more damage had been done to the group of humans.

If his brother had damaged the human girl, he would have killed him with his bare hands.

He slid down to the edge of the roof and used his momentum to push off and carry him through the air to the roof of the building the humans hid in, breathing in the air deeply to catch her scent past the blood that now filled it, his eyes catching sight of another like him leaping down from the back of a big truck crashed nearby.

Their dark eyes met and he held the others gaze for a moment before his own eyes narrowed and he slowly crouched.

There was an unspoken communication between the two Hunters then, the first wanting to take the group that lay within the building for food while the other threatened harm to the first if he lay a hand on them. Tension built in the air between them…

Then he coiled the muscles of his legs like springs and shrieked a challenge as he launched himself off the roof at the brother waiting below.


	4. Scene 4: The Challenge

The shriek brought the survivors immediately to their guard, all of them turning to the door with weapons raised, but the second shriek that came after, closer to the ground made them all pause and cast uneasy and confused glances at one another.

Bill reached out to close the door , keeping his weapon raised with one hand, and the sounds from outside became muffled.

Screaming, snarling and yelping came from outside, and after a few seconds a heavy weight crashed against the door, splintering the wood so that they could see what was happening outside.

A Hunter backed into their view through the splintered door, holding its arm lamely and growling with fury, its dark eyes fixed on a second Hunter that pounced into view. The two grappled for a moment, the lame one using the power of his legs to push the other into a roll where they fought for control. When the second threw the lame one off, they both rolled to their feet and crouched, beginning to circle.

Both of them were covered in blood, more of it washing onto the ground as they moved, the source of most of it a deep wound in the back of the second Hunter's calf. Their breath was heavy, chests heaving, but neither one looked ready to yield.

Francis raised his gun, but Bill gently put his hand on the barrel and lowered it again, shaking his head.

"Just wait. There's a good chance they'll finish one another off." He said quietly, not wanting his voice to disturb the creatures battling outside.

"What's gotten into them? I've never seen them fight like this before." Louis breathed from behind him, peering past Bill's elbow to see what was going on. Zoey was still and silent, her hands clutched, white-knuckled on her gun as she stared.

The lame Hunter was now letting out small whimpers along with the growls, its face torn open in addition to many of the other wounds the second had inflicted. As they circled one another once more, the second Hunter launched himself forward too fast to predict, flattening the lame Hunter to the ground and sinking his sharp teeth into its neck. The whimpers turned to yelps, then turned to wet, bubbling gasps until there was an audible crack of bone and it at last lay silent and limp on the ground.

The still living Hunter straightened slowly, arching his back and throwing his head back to howl his victory to the heavens before turning his eyes to the door where the Survivors stood. His terrible gaze swept over them, finally coming to rest on Zoey and softening into something more curious.

He didn't stay long enough after that to do much else, leaping away easily even with his leg ripped open the way it was. Francis poked his head out the door to see where the Hunter might have gone, Louis sat back with a sigh of relief, but Zoey couldn't take her eyes off the corpse of the Hunter, laying sprawled on the wet ground nearby. Its neck was a ruin of flesh and blood, and blood spread all around it in a gory pool… those dark eyes stared up at the sky, unseeing and unblinking.

Bill's hand on her shoulder brought her to her senses, but when she looked up at him, he leaned down to whisper close to her ear.

"Is it him?" The question held a note of concern… Zoey could tell Bill now understood completely what she had meant about this Hunter being different. When she shook her head, Bill nodded gently and pulled back, giving her shoulder a squeeze for comfort. "Then the other must be."

"… I'm scared." She hadn't meant for her voice to sound so tiny when she spoke, and hated that it did. She wasn't a damsel in distess… she wasn't a damsel in distress, so why did she feel so fucking helpless? "God, what is going on?"

Bill's words chilled her straight through, more than any rain could, even more than the cries of the infected could. He spoke frankly, he spoke simply, he only said two words, but they were powerful words that made her stomach turn.

"They're changing."

…

…

…

He managed to escape into a nearby empty building, finding a small room free of infected and collapsing into a heap in the middle of it. His clothing were torn to rags, he was exhausted, had the foul taste of infected blood in his mouth, and he was in more pain than he could ever remember being in before.

Making sure none of the other infected were looking, he curled in on himself and reached up to clutch his leg in both hands, letting out a stifled sound of agony. His clawed fingers probed into the wound, seeing how deeply it cut into his flesh, his heart beginning to pound when he realized how quickly he needed to seal it.

If he continued to lose blood like this, he was going to die. And if he died, he wouldn't be able to keep her safe.

Hissing furiously, he once more rolled to his feet and limped back out of the building, scaling a truck nearby to look around. There was a store he recalled, one that he had gone to before when his clothing needed patching or he had a wound that needed closing. There were better ways to seal a wound or fix a broken sweater, but there were no faster ways that he knew of that didn't involve fire or stealing new clothes.

Scurrying down the street as quickly as he could, he located the store he had remembered from before and began rifling through all the objects that were strewn on the ground. He was feeling a little light headed, but he figured that was from the blood loss and too much moving around while being in such great amounts of pain. The adhesive he had been searching for was plentiful here, and his sharp claws and teeth made quick work of the package surrounding it. He wrapped great strips of the thick, silvery-grey adhesive around his injured leg, knowing the irritation of his skin would promote scabbing and close the wound over fast enough that he wouldn't fall too far behind the humans.

He needed to heal as quickly as he could. There was too much to lose and he couldn't afford to let them get too far ahead, especially with two of their own being injured. He had to keep his brothers and sisters from trailing the scent of blood, the irregular rhythm of their breathing and their footsteps, and he had no doubt their judgement would be impaired by exhaustion at this point.

The adhesive made his leg stiff and effectively crippled him, so he hid himself in a small closet to rest and wait for the next day to continue tracking. There was no use wandering out there if he was in no shape to.

After all, to the infected, an injured Hunter was nothing but food. He knew they didn't have the same standards as he did when it came to devouring human or infected flesh. The lessers would take what they could get…

Pain kept him awake for some time, whimpering in the darkness and curled into a tiny ball, but soon he grew so exhausted that sleep couldn't keep him away any longer. His eyes fluttered closed and he drifted to restless sleep in the dark corner of his closet.

…

…

…

Author's note!:

Thanks to all of you for your beautiful and wonderful reviews. Thanks to all of you who have been devotedly watching the story too! I really appreciate the feed back and the attention, this is one of the better stories I'm working on right now and it's a lot of fun to write.

Sorry this part isn't too long, there will be more tomorrow and Sunday since I've got a couple of days off. We're getting to the good parts soon!

If anyone has any questions or comments to add, go right ahead. Also, it's come to my attention that I'm going to need to name my Hunter soon, so if you have any good ideas for that, I'll definitely see about using them!

Thanks!


	5. Scene 5: Survival of the Fittest

"The hospital is close now." Bill's voice was curiously muffled by the hood she still had pulled up over her head, and Zoey turned her head to look at him, to hear him better. "We might be able to find a safe room with a proper bathroom in it so we can all get ourselves cleaned up. The last of our rations should keep us going until we find more, but it should be priority in the morning."

"There are an awful lot of buildings around here, no reason there shouldn't be a bathroom in them." Louis replied, Zoey smiling and nodding in agreement. "Even if we find one and just keep the zombies at bay long enough to wash up a bit, that would work for me."

"A safe room would also be nice. I'm wearing down fast." Zoey's voice sounded a little far away, which was something she almost understood. The past few days felt like she had been standing back watching herself, like she had become an observer in her own life, the feeling uncomfortable and confusing.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Hunter, his wounded leg, his swift escape, a part of her hoping that he was out there somewhere and alright. She didn't know if the infected, even the smart ones, knew how to bandage their own wounds, so there was a chance the poor thing would bleed out, lay down and die somewhere.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, Bill's hand once again finding her arm and bringing her back to the here and now. His eyes searched her face as he continued speaking, pulling her up a flight of stairs they had stopped near.

"We must be close now, and there are less of the infected roaming this part of the city. That doesn't mean we can linger too long, but a small rest might do us all some good. There's a room up here that's easily defended, from the looks of it, so we can pause for a bit."

"What for?" Francis growled, looking over his shoulder and up at the roof tops. Ever since they had witnessed the fight between the Hunters, he had been incredibly twitchy. "We got lots of ammo, we should keep pushing till we get to the safe room."

"What for?" Bill turned to face Francis, a grimace twisting it. "We're soaking wet, Zoey's tired, Louis and I are both hurt still and I need a damn cigarette, that's what for. If you don't wanna stop, feel free to go on ahead. If you don't feel like dying, keep watch and keep your damn mouth shut, Francis!"

It was a typical fight between the two of them, but with the blazing heat in Bill's words this time, Francis didn't even have a come back, turning his back to the room at the top of the stairs and grumbling to himself as he kept watch for the elusive Hunter or any other infected that made the mistake of straying close.

Zoey sat down in an abandoned office chair that didn't look too beat up, every part of her protesting, letting her eyes flutter closed and breathing a sigh of relief. There was a small bathroom inside, just a sink and a toilet, but it was enough that they could all take turns using it. Zoey would have given anything to wash her hair or have a proper shower, but luxuries like that didn't exist in this world anymore. Not here, at least.

Bill finished washing up in the bathroom and called to her, so she opened her eyes, stretched and reluctantly relinquished the chair she had been sitting in to go to him, offering him a curious look.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." He murmured, lighting his cigarette and leaning back against the sink. Zoey nodded, gesturing to the door of the bathroom. "Close it, might be better the others don't hear just yet."

…

When the bathroom door closed, Louis blinked and looked over from where he was sitting, seeing that both Zoey and Bill had disappeared into it. He stared at the closed door for a long moment before standing, shuffling over to where Francis stood at the door, watching diligently, clearing his throat.

"You ever get the feeling we got a little Survivor romance happenin'?" He murmured, Francis turning to fix him with a confused expression and one raised eyebrow. The taller man's gaze shifted from Louis to the bathroom door, eyes widening and expression turning to one of discomfort, maybe even horror before he looked back down.

"What the hell man?" Francis shoved Louis with one elbow and made a disgusted noise. "Totally not happenin'."

"Why not?" Louis rubbed his arm where it had hit the door frame, smirking slightly.

"For one, Zoey's too hot for Bill. For two, she's too YOUNG for Bill. For three, Bill's an old man and not interested in hot girls like Zoey. For four…" He held up his fingers to indicate. "I think Zoey likes me better."

"So that's why she's locked herself in a bathroom with Bill, and you're standing out here in the rain, right?" Louis' voice had a hint of amusement to it, and Francis shoved him again for good measure before turning back to gaze out at the rain, muttering. "Think what you want… I think there's somethin' goin' on myself."

"Whatever. If you're gonna stand there, make yourself useful and keep an eye out for vampires." Francis growled in reply.

…

"I think, if we learned anything at all today about our little Hunter, it's that his instincts are still the same. He killed that other Hunter without mercy, relentless in his attack. Even when he was injured, he fought when he could have easily run and let us take care of it." Bill murmured, keeping his voice pitched low so no listeners at the door could hear.

Zoey was sitting on the sink, since there was very little room in here for both of them, and she kicked her feet idly while looking at the floor, brows knit. Biting her lip, she looked at Bill and let out a soft sigh.

"This is Darwin's ultimate test, Bill. Survival of the fittest. I think our Hunter knows that and I think he kept fighting and eventually killed that other Hunter to show that HE is the fittest and therefore the most qualified to survive. They're like…" She paused, almost not wanting to say it, but pressed on after a gentle squeeze of her shoulder from Bill. "They're like animals. Like wolves, or big cats. If they encounter each other, sure it might be easier to work as a pair, but one of them has to be the alpha."

"So our Hunter's trying to prove he's the alpha? He's not in very good shape, you could see it. If he's still out there, there's a good chance he's not going to be alive much longer unless he gets help. And I'll be damned if I leave anyone with even a glimmer of a chance of being cured behind. That little bastard is different, there's no disguising it." Bill scratched at his beard, his gaze shifting to the mirror over Zoey's shoulder. He sighed gently and tapped ashes from his cigarette, looking at the door. "The others are probably out there gossiping about us."

"Let them." Zoey said dryly, smirking. "It'll give them something to talk about other than zombies for once."

"Yeah, you're right." Bill looked back at her sternly. "So, what's the plan then? We press forward and wait and see if he shows?"

"And if he doesn't, we go back for him. He considered what he did today as saving us, of that I'm sure. I think the only reason he ran is because Francis would have shot him if he stayed there a second longer." Zoey replied, tilting her head to the side.

Bill met her blue eyes and nodded slowly, eventually sliding his gaze to the ground when the look lingered a second longer than he had intended. He reached over and opened the door, gesturing for her to go first, watching her slide from the counter with the sink clumsily and walk out of the bathroom to rejoin Louis and Francis.

He lingered just a bit longer there, letting out another sigh and closing his eyes.

He had no idea WHAT he was thinking, but it all came back to 'leave no man behind.'

…

…

…

He woke in pain, feeling stiff and uncomfortable, one hand immediately jumping to his wounded leg to see if it was still bleeding.

The adhesive had held, but taking it off would be unwise, so he pulled his pantleg down over it and shuffled to his feet to stretch and move around to test it. It was still incredibly sore, the pain having dulled to an ache that couldn't be ignored instead of a blazing, screaming agony, and the adhesive made it too stiff to move as quickly as he would have liked.

Still, he had to move on. Even food could wait until he caught up to the others, until he was sure he hadn't fallen too far behind, the resolve that burned within him driving him to leap quickly from the building he had taken refuge in that night.

The rain had let up, coming to merely a drizzle, but the air was still cold enough to make his breath show. It felt good on his leg, giving him a small comfort. He tested himself by leaping to the next roof over, a clumsy landing due to the stiffness of his wound jarring his entire body with a fresh burst of pain.

If it hadn't been for the adhesive, he was sure he would be bleeding all over the place again.

Pulling himself back up, he leapt to the next building and paused at the edge of it, breathing in deeply. Spoiled food, infection and the bile produced by one of his brothers were predominant smells, but there was a lingering sweetness and a blood smell that drew him in the right direction. It grew stronger near a small office building wedged between taller ones, but the building was empty.

Perhaps they had stopped to rest, the thought giving him another small bit of comfort and making it easier for him to catch up.

He continued on in the same direction… the humans couldn't be far now.


	6. Scene 6: Animal Control

The survivors paused to ransack an already looted grocery store, staying away from perishables but managing to find many boxes and cans of things to tide them over till they were rescued. Bill gathered they had only another few hours before they reached the hospital, but the roads ahead were so packed with infected, they were going to have to try and find another way to get there.

When he suggested the sewers, Zoey's first thought was of how absolutely disgusting that idea was, but she soon realized they might not have a choice. Besides, it was no worse than being blown up on or thrown up on by a Boomer as they had taken to calling the massive, bloated infected.

At least the smell of shit would come out of her clothes. She wasn't sure the bile ever would.

The thought of it wasn't enough to put her off her food, however, and she ate just as much as the boys did when they stopped again to rest. Bill's leg was giving him trouble, and there was suspicion that Louis' arm was infected, prompting them to search for a pharmacy or something like it nearby.

When there wasn't one available, they took the next best course of action.

"Booze!" Francis chirped happily when Bill broke the front window of the liquor store. Heading inside and taking care of any of the infected that got in the way, the four of them picked through the remains of the store, which had been relatively untouched compared to some of the others.

Zoey pocketed a small bottle of Fireball for later… she had always wanted to try it, and if they made it to rescue, she would have reason to celebrate. Bill muttered about beer being too cumbersome and taking up too much room, deciding instead to take along a vintage brandy he had found on one of the shelves. Francis was grabbing anything he could get his hands on, Louis quietly reminding him that he didn't need and couldn't carry all of it with him, and the biker was forced to choose only a few.

"Hey, will this work?" Zoey held up a bottle of vodka, and Bill shrugged, cigarette smoke curling lazily about his head.

"Better than nothin'." He muttered, Zoey standing to move to where Louis was leaning against the checkout.

"Sorry ma'am, I'm going to have to see some ID." Louis said seriously, offering them a chance to laugh. Laughter was hard to come by these days, and the banter and joking they had all exchanged regularly seemed to have happened so long ago…

Zoey wondered if it was because of the changes they were seeing, wondered if perhaps this infection was beating even their spirits down. Perhaps it was the anticipation of rescue…

She opened the bottle of vodka and took the bandages off of Louis' arm, giving him a sympathetic look before pouring some of the strong smelling liquid over the wound. Louis gripped the counter hard as she took a clean cloth from her medkit and wiped it clean as best she could, hissing softly through clenched teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.

She kept murmuring apologies, he kept reassuring her it was alright…

"We might be able to find some antibiotics at the hospital. Can you hold on till then?" Zoey asked, and Louis let out a peel of laughter.

"Zoey, I'm not gonna die on you. I feel fine… thanks." He patted her on the shoulder and she flushed.

When the task was finally complete, they regrouped and headed out again, careful to avoid a car that had a light blinking on the dash.

There was no need to set off a car alarm and draw in the horde, not when they were doing so well…

…

…

…

The lessers seemed to sense that he was injured. Never had he had to kill so many of them walking from one end of the street to the other, and not even the ones who saw their brothers and sisters fall beneath his claws had the sense to back off, throwing themselves at him and flailing with arms and legs until he broke their necks, caved their heads in or tore their throats out.

Twice, he was bitten, actually BITTEN by them, and those that dared were fell in worse ways than the others. The ones that dared, he left torn apart on the street, a mass of organs and disease and blood.

Feeling frustrated, hurt and angry, he made his way as quickly as he could in the direction the humans had gone in, hoping not to lose them as they ducked in and out of buildings. They lingered in one for some time, conversed and gathered supplies, and by the time they came out, he had climbed onto the roof for a better view.

She kept looking over her shoulder, searching the shadows and the faces of the infected as she walked, something that made his heart pound a little faster. She was looking for him…

He waited until she turned and slipped down to a lower roof, scrambling to the edge to see what direction they were headed before descending to the street again. Without his ability to make long jumps, he resorted to running after them. While he couldn't move as quickly that way, it was better than risking his leg or his life.

There was also a greater risk of being seen, but something told him that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing anymore.

He trusted she wouldn't let them shoot him without going through her first. And humans were noble… they weren't going to kill her just for a chance to get at him.

There was a warbling cry, then another infected flew at him from the left, swinging at him uselessly as he ducked out of the way. The infected smashed its arm through the window of the car he had been crouched behind, then the air was suddenly filled with the high pitched alarm that came from these vehicles from time to time, the shrieking and howling of a horde coming from nearby.

His eyes widened in horror, his legs carrying him as quickly as they could towards the building the humans had disappeared into.

He was in no shape to fight, and the horde approaching was his fault… he had no choice but to fight with the humans now.

If they didn't shoot him first, of course.

…

…

…

Francis spun with his gun up when the car alarm started screaming, the other three letting out cries of alarm and searching for the reason it was. The horde was approaching fast, Francis quick to pick off the closer infected that came tearing at them. There was the usual bobbing and weaving as they tried to anticipate the shots and avoid them, but all of them ended up falling to his gun.

All except one.

Just as Francis swivelled the gun to aim at the hooded infected, it dropped into a crouch and leapt right over their heads, Louis and Bill turning to get a bead on it. Zoey grabbed Bill's arm to stop him as the Hunter ducked behind a nearby van.

"I hate vampires!" Francis shouted, his gun spitting fire and metal again and again as the horde got closer, and Bill met Zoey's gaze behind his back. Louis was watching both of them carefully, his gaze sliding to the van where the Hunter was hiding, then he turned his back to them and opened fire on the zombies as well.

There was a look of relief in Zoey's eyes, Bill smiling gently at her before unhooking a bomb from his belt and activating it, throwing it as hard as he could towards the still screaming car alarm.

"Make yourselves scarce, people." He growled, the other survivors shooting as they backed away from the horde that was now distracted by the beeping bomb. "We can outrun them if we head inside. Close the doors behind you!"

As they rushed forward again, still firing at the infected that pursued them, Zoey glanced at the Hunter crouched behind the van. He was watching her with a pleading look on his face, and she offered him a gentle smile and a gesture.

"C'mon!" She shouted, the Hunter starting forward almost immediately.

"Are you NUTS?! Do you know what that is?!" Francis bellowed, smashing an infected in the face with his gun and looking at Zoey like she was an alien.

"Yes, it's the guy that saved our lives yesterday. He's coming with us!"

"That's a freaking Hunter!!!" Francis cried in return, Bill taking his arm in a tight grip.

"She's right, Francis, it's… he's coming with us. He's injured and can't make it out there on his own, he's showing signs that he wants to help and we're not leaving him behind! He could hold the key to the cure! Or to possibly building a world where we aren't trying to kill each other every waking moment!" The old man snarled over the screaming horde outside the now closed door.

They gazed at each other for a long moment in silence, Francis' eyes shifting to the quivering figure of the Hunter crouched in the corner, then back to Bill, then he let out a disgusted noise and shrugged Bill's hand off.

"I think this is a bad idea." He grumbled, moving with them as they hurried into the next room and shut the door behind them.

…

It must have been pure luck that they found the safe room when they did, the cherry red door sending waves of relief through them. When they closed themselves in and locked the door behind them, Francis and Bill spent some time using the ammo on the table in there to pick off the lingering remains of the horde that clawed at the door in an attempt to reach them.

Zoey and Louis immediately converged on the Hunter, who was cowering in a corner, Zoey trying to coax him out with gentle words while Louis prepared a medkit and some pain pills.

"We're trying to help you. C'mon… it's alright." Zoey was saying, Francis letting out a groan and putting his hand over his eyes.

While the Hunter seemed to be just fine with Zoey's presence, he attempted to bite Louis when the man got close and actually succeeded in tearing off his tie with wickedly sharp claws, causing Louis to keep his distance.

"We're not getting anywhere… and he's making an awful lot of racket, Zoey." Louis said quietly to her. Bill stomped over to them, catching both the humans AND the Hunter by surprise when he grabbed ahold of the infected's hoodie and dragged him onto the floor, where he landed on his back.

The Hunter howled in displeasure, but before he could make any sort of attempt at attacking Bill, Louis held his arms down and Zoey pounced on him, sitting on his chest and stomach so that she could get at his injured leg without him kicking her off of him.

"Just stay still! We're trying to help you, damn it!" She shouted, the sound over her voice seeming to incense him. He quieted down and remained still for a moment, though he was still tense and quivering, and Zoey looked over her shoulder at Bill.

"Let me borrow your knife… I have to cut this duct tape off, he's got it all over his leg." She sounded slightly irritated, but Bill didn't blame her. Getting that stuff off was going to hurt the Hunter, and possibly make the wound on his leg worse…

He supposed this indeed answered the question of whether or not they knew how to fix themselves up after a fight, and he pulled the knife from his belt, handing it to Zoey without another word.

"I'm really sorry…" Zoey murmured to the now squirming Hunter. "This is REALLY gonna hurt…"

…

…

…

Author's Note:

ANOTHER CLIFFHANGERISH ENDING! Mwahahaha. Ahem.

So, I've had two suggestions for names and was directed to a place for names by a third person, and I need the name before I write the next chapter, so I will probably make a decision based on what I have.

Thanks again for all your lovely reviews and keep watching for the next update!


	7. Scene 7: Kill Me With Kindness

His face felt hot and flushed when she pounced on him, turning so her back was facing him, her weight pinning him down, and he writhed and snarled in an attempt to get away from the hands holding his wrists.

When she raised her voice in anger, he stopped moving but stared at the back of her head in an attempt to understand exactly what she was attempting to do. The human holding his wrists looked rather distraught, and to his utter horror and dismay, another of the humans handed her a knife from his belt, causing him to resume his writhing with desperation.

What were they going to do? What were they trying to do to him?!

She had pulled his pant leg away from his wound, and he heard her say something loudly enough to be heard over his frantic growling and yelping, her tone making him feel rather cold.

She apologized for something…

Then pain tore through him, worse than when he was injured in the first place as she used the knife to cut away the adhesive keeping his wound closed. She pulled the adhesive quickly from his leg, tearing away what hair remained there and ripping his flesh open once more, the scream of pain that escaped him unable to be stifled.

He continued to howl in pain, but it was so great that he found he could hardly move, and great black spots were beginning to crowd the edges of his vision. She put something on his leg, something cold and wet, something that stung badly, then began to wipe it clean with a cloth…

Even knowing they were attempting to help him, he didn't appreciate being man handled this way, and he definitely didn't appreciate that they were giving him no choice whatsoever in the matter. This much pain, even caused by her, made him want to tear something apart.

He couldn't regain control of his body, his eyes rolling up as his vision went almost completely black, his back arched and a low moan of pain coming from him that made the man holding his wrists look away. He kicked one leg weakly, the one she didn't have ahold of, leaving a large series of dents in the metal cabinet that was close enough for him to connect with.

Another of the humans was shouting somewhere in the background, but the pain soon blurred all noises together into a crescendo that deepened the blackness in his vision, sounding much too loud but far away all at once.

He wasn't going to pass out, he told himself. He didn't want to think about what they might do to him if he did, and didn't quite feel up to waking up outside the safe room either, in a discarded heap in the rain with other infected attacking him because of his weakness.

Suddenly, her weight was gone, and his wrists were released, but there was nothing he could do now.

The blackness deepened further, finally covering his vision altogether and sending him falling forward into the dark.

…

Zoey's cheeks flushed when the Hunter began thrashing, his squirming making her both very distracted and very uncomfortable, but she set about her task without stopping. The knife she had been given slid through the tape easily, though she struggled to tear the tape off without doing too much damage to the Hunter and his leg.

The smell was rather terrible, but it was what she had expected. After all, he had wrapped the tape around his leg with filthy hands, and his body was working double time due to the irritation the adhesive part of the tape caused. She grabbed the bottle of vodka she had used earlier to treat Louis' arm, pouring a generous amount onto the Hunter's leg and listening with growing guilt to his cries.

She just wished he would stop wriggling…

Hissing a breath through her teeth, Zoey grabbed a cloth and began cleaning his wound, holding his leg still with one hand while she worked. His other leg began pounding into the cabinet he was lying in front of, leaving dents in the metal, and his cries began to weaken, falling into pained, indignant whimpers.

At last, satisfied that the wound was indeed clean, Zoey wrapped gauze around it and secured it snugly, not as tightly as the Hunter had secured the tape before, wanting to leave him some room to move. She slowly got up and nodded at Louis, who released the Hunter's hands and stood back, all of them watching as his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.

"Don't look so guilty." Francis muttered behind Zoey, making her turn with a burning look in her blue eyes. "It's a freakin' hunter."

"This one's different." It was Louis who said it this time, drawing Francis' eyes away from Zoey, a boggled look on his face. "Did you see how it responded to Zoey getting angry? Normal hunters would growl right back and not even give a damn, Francis. This one actually listened. Not to mention, he sought our help in that fight back there, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to take on the infected with his leg in that condition. An eye for an eye, man, an eye for an eye."

"Instead of helping' it, we shoulda shot it! This is definitely gonna come back and bite us in the ass." Francis fell into irritated mumbling, moving away from the Hunter but staying in a spot where he had a good shot just in case the thing woke up and everything started to go to hell.

"He may be partially right about that." Louis said softly to Zoey and Bill, the girl giving him an angry look while the old man sighed, exhaling cigarette smoke.

"I may also be right about this thing… I mean, about him showing us a way to live together without trying to kill one another, though." Bill murmured back, Zoey looking up at him hopefully.

"If there are more like him, maybe we can keep things from getting too bad while we're looking for a cure. Well… worse than they are, at least." She looked over at the unconscious form of the Hunter, then up at the top floor of the safe room. "Let's at least make him a bit more comfortable, hm?"

…

It took some time to get his unconscious body up the ladder, Francis' reluctance to assist them not making the task any easier. When Zoey had arranged the Hunter in a more comfortable position, she offered to take watch for the night so that the others could rest and so that she could keep a close eye on the Hunter in case he woke up.

Bill didn't know if she'd even be able to stay awake long enough to take watch, but let her do it anyway. He had stayed up the night before and needed rest more than any of them did, and Louis was still injured, Francis not to be trusted at the moment.

Francis was the first to fall asleep, his snores being joined by gentler ones from Bill and deep even breathing from Louis not long after, and Zoey took small comfort in the noises as she sat vigil over the Hunter.

There was a good vantage point from the top floor, offering her a view out into the city and making it easier to see any of the infected that might show up to give them trouble.

She wasn't sure exactly when she drifted off, but her eyes opened to see the Hunter crouched over her, his dark eyes carrying a peculiar light in them as he gazed downwards.

Her breath caught in her chest, but when there was no sound of the men waking below, she simply returned the Hunter's gaze and remained incredibly still.

He seemed content to stare at her for awhile in silence, but when she tried to sit up, opening her mouth to speak, he put his hand on her shoulder and eased her back down again, pressing one finger to her lips. Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, her heart was pounding, and she couldn't control her racing breath.

Leaning down, the Hunter inhaled her scent deeply, a low growl escaping him that she could feel rather than hear. His lips brushed over her hair, her forehead, her eyes and cheeks and lips, hands hovering over her without touching, almost as if he were afraid to.

He moved to her neck and collarbone, hands reaching up to hold her face gently, the realization that those claws, so good at ripping through flesh, doors, whatever else got in his way were so close to her flesh now enough to make her tremble and twitch.

…

This close, especially now that she wasn't torturing him with kindness, her scent was almost enough to make him faint again. He rumbled his appreciation as he set about exploring what skin he could find exposed, moving from brushing his lips over her flesh to touching her and offering affectionate nips that made her breath catch in her chest.

He couldn't remember ever being this close to another person, infected or otherwise, without tearing them apart. His claws twitched as he ran his hands down her arms, a soft growl escaping his throat, but he was careful not to give in to the darker side of himself.

Being this close to her, touching her, smelling her, tasting her… it reminded him of a life he couldn't remember, a life that had come before the infection. It was buried in the back of his mind somewhere, and he wondered if perhaps he had someone like her when he was still whole and human.

Of course, he was proving that just because he was infected didn't mean he couldn't have one of his own now, too…

The tightness and heat of his body was distracting, pushing him to go further, take more, but he silenced it, fought it back and continued his careful exploring. Resting his weight gently against her, he slid clawed fingers under her shirt, moving them across the pale skin of her stomach, skin he knew altogether too well was very thin, very sensitive. Her muscles twitched beneath his touch, her ragged breathing becoming shallow and laboured…

Then she brought her hands up to his face, sliding them over his cheeks and chin, rough from using guns every day but still soft against the stubble that decorated his jawbone. She didn't try to push his hood down, staring into his dark eyes with wide blue ones, her lips parting in words he didn't quite understand.

She used the same reassuring tone she had before she began torturing him…

But this time she didn't have her friends to help. This time, he had her right where he wanted her, all to himself.

Imagine his surprise when it was her who drew his face closer, her who brushed her lips against his, and her that pushed a little further, capturing him in a gentle kiss.


	8. Scene 8: Weight of the World

He was very still at first, not pushing to deepen the kiss but not pulling away either, his hand slipping out from under her shirt to grip her arm, claws digging in ever so slightly. He tensed, then slowly began to relax, eventually leaning into her and letting his body rest against hers comfortably.

She pulled her hands away from his face and laced her fingers together behind his neck, lips parting at his gentle prompting, allowing him to take what he wanted from her. He thought she had smelled wonderful…

She tasted amazing… it was absolutely maddening.

He leaned into her more, pressing his hips down into hers while he kissed her hard, one clawed hand reaching up to drag through her hair, the whimper that escaped her throat neither frightened nor regretful… instead it was curious, maybe even desperate, perhaps a little delighted. The growl that escaped him became more pronounced, a little louder, her hands moving to brace against his chest.

He ignored the first gentle push she gave him, not yet done, not wanting to stop, but the second push was more persistent, so he tore himself away with a reluctant groan. She reached up with one hand and put a finger to his lips, her eyes half lidded and lips still parted, the other hand moving to clutch the back of his hoodie.

She was probably right, he thought to himself. They needed to be quiet… if any of the others were to wake and see them like this, he would probably be shot without any further question.

He nodded his head slowly in response to her gesture, eager to resume his previous activities, his hips grinding down into hers firmly. Her cheeks flushed, she shook her head slowly, he pressed his face into her neck with another dull groan before leaning down to steal another kiss.

He supposed it was understandable that she didn't want to do more in this place, in front of her brothers, the thought that it was because of what he was never even crossing his mind. If she had a problem with what he was, with the fact that he was infected…

She wouldn't be kissing him this way.

The kissing wasn't making it easier for him to take no for an answer, either, but he had no desire to be shot tonight, or any other time, so he would just wait and suffer until the time came to relieve the terrible pressure now building up inside of him.

…

Zoey had thought at first that he would taste like blood and disease… she was surprised to find that he tasted almost human, though there was a certain taint to it that was completely understandable.

She found herself wondering what in the world had come over her, why in the world she was even considering this let along doing it, but all thoughts were banished.

All that needed to exist right now what this, this moment, this kiss… even if the others were to wake and find them like this, they could gladly go to hell.

She wasn't going to apologize, or try to explain…

Something told her that no matter how awful and wrong this might seem, there was something so utterly RIGHT about it. She thought of the smoldering look in his dark eyes, the feeling of his breath against her neck in the dark room where they first met, his curious gazes and his response to the sound of her voice, all of it making it so hard for her to say no when he ground his hips into hers.

She wanted it, wanted it badly, but now was not the time nor the place. She wasn't sure she could keep quiet if they made the choice to go any further, and she wasn't sure she trusted this Hunter enough not to give in to his darker side and tear her apart while caught in the throes of passion.

He seemed to understand the simple shake of her head, though his hips remained firmly pressed into her own as he leaned down for another kiss. She returned it eagerly, one hand on the back of his head, the other gripping his clothing, her body quivering in anticipation of something she was going to have to deny it for the time being.

Even going this far was crazy, especially here, in plain sight of the others, but she didn't really give enough of a damn to try and stop. She was keeping watch, they trusted her to do a good job, and none of them would wake until she woke them.

At least, that was what she hoped.

…

It was hard to tear himself away from her again when he heard the sound of the taller human's snoring stop, the shuffling below telling him the man was waking up, but once he had pulled away from her, he quickly rolled to his feet and ducked into the corner, wincing a bit as he put pressure on his leg.

She lay on her back still for a long moment, the mumble that the human offered her not quite enough to rouse her from her state of shock and confusion. She sat up very slowly and stared over at the corner where he crouched, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand quickly before shifting to the edge of the upper floor, looking down to respond to the human

He wondered if she would rouse his suspicions even while trying not to.

He touched his fingers to his lips, shuddering as he sank back into his corner and closing his eyes. His chest ached, he felt hot and shaky, his breath was ragged and he felt as if he were going to swell and burst.

There was nothing to be done about it right now, though…

He had no doubt in his mind he would get his chance sooner rather than later.

…

"Zoey… you awake?" Francis' mumble came to her from a million miles away, but as Zoey sat up, her head began to clear, and she gazed into the corner where the Hunter was now crouching, eventually moving to address Francis as he waited down below.

"I'm awake, yep." Her voice sounded a little breathless, but not as shaky as she felt which was something of a relief.

"Good… I'll take watch, if you want. You could use some sleep, too."

Zoey again glanced over at the corner, sliding down the ladder to join Francis on the ground floor, a soft breath escaping her upon landing.

"I'm fine. Can't you sleep?" She replied, Francis' shoulders rising and falling in a shrug.

"Still a little creeped out about your pet." He jerked his thumb upwards, and Zoey frowned, looking up to see the Hunter crouched at the top of the ladder now. "Maybe you should let him out or something… Don't think he's house trained yet."

Zoey rolled her eyes, gesturing to the Hunter, but he refused to move as long as Francis was standing at the bottom of the ladder. When Francis moved, the Hunter leapt down easily, Zoey leading him to the safe room door.

He seemed to be doing better on his injured leg, and while it hadn't come close to healing just yet, he didn't seem to be in as much pain while walking on it. It gave her hope that he would be able to survive longer than he might have if they hadn't cleaned it up for him.

He looked at her in confusion when she took the brace off the door, putting his hand on it to keep her from opening it and shaking his head.

"Either you go out there," she began in a hushed voice, crouching down to face him, "Or Francis kills you while I sleep. It's your choice."

She couldn't help the guilty feeling gnawing at her stomach when he snarled in her face and tore the door open himself, disappearing into the shadows outside. She didn't want him to have to go…

But right now she didn't trust Francis enough to leave them alone together.

Something told her that they hadn't seen the last of the Hunter.

"Good riddance. He won't come back while I'm keepin' watch , right?" Francis scratched the back of his head, Zoey turning to shrug at him and twitch an eyebrow.

"What's the matter, you afraid of him?"

"I ain't afraid of no Hunter! Little punk, I'd shoot him before he could look at me funny."

"Good thing I let him out then. I don't think shooting him is a wise idea." She rubbed her arms as she turned to look out of the safe room, waiting for Francis to turn away before closing her eyes and pressing one hand over her mouth.

…

There was a distraught look on her face when she closed the door behind him, and he didn't stray far from the shadows once the door had shut, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity he hoped she would feel.

He understood her reasons, or at least he was pretty sure he did…

It didn't keep it from hurting.

…

…

…

Author's Note: Alright, so I didn't use his name just yet, but it IS coming. This piece took me altogether too long to write and I'm not sure I like it just yet… I promise the next one will be better.

Thanks for all those who have reviewed without being logged in, I appreciate your continuing support and feed back! *glee*


	9. Scene 9: Tremble and Roar

Zoey didn't know what she had been expecting. When they left the safe room after their rest, she kept waiting for the Hunter to come crawling back to them like a beaten animal, gazing up at them with pleading eyes and a look of "I won't do it again" on his face…

He wasn't an animal, she didn't know why she was suddenly thinking of him this way.

To say she was distracted would be an understatement, spending most of her time with her back to the others as she watched behind them and scanned the rooftops for any sign of the Hunter.

"I know there's a building around here with access to the sewer. We should be able to get down there relatively easy, and I don't imagine many people would have gone down there when the infection started, so we shouldn't run into too many of the infected." Louis was saying behind her, Zoey sparing him a glance before turning her eyes back to the roofs.

"Right. From the sewer, we can probably find an access hatch closer to the hospital. I'd like to reach it today, maybe hole up inside for a rest before going to the roof for evac." Bill murmured, swivelling around one corner while leading with his gun, taking down a few of the infected as they rushed towards them. When Zoey lingered a little longer around the corner, Bill glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Zoey. Focus please."

She turned her blue eyes to the old man with a grimace, hurrying a little to join them as they moved out into the street and towards the building that Louis had indicated.

Bill was more observant than the others, he alone had been able to tell something had happened to her in the room Francis shut her in the day she met the Hunter after all. She was certain he could tell something had happened last night, but from his gentle scolding and lack of questions, she figured he hadn't guessed the nature of the something that HAD happened.

She would be more than happy if they never found out.

"I hate sewers." Francis muttered as they moved into the darkened building Louis pointed out. Once inside, they flicked on their flashlights again, Zoey pressing one hand over her nose and mouth at the suddenly overpowering scent of decay.

There were a lot of bodies, but no infected here. The place was empty of life and deathly quiet… it put their nerves on edge and made their steps even more cautious as they pressed forward.

Bill held up one hand to stop them as they neared the access to the sewers, looking around the blood stained room with a frown on his face.

"Hear that?" He whispered, glancing at the others.

They all stood in utter silence for a moment, the sound of heavy breathing and rough growling from beneath them being punctuated by the sound of a fist hitting flesh and the squealing cries of one of the infected, Zoey's face going white.

"Back the way we came, before it notices us." Bill's voice was almost lost in the vast emptiness of the room, the four of them backing swiftly out of the room at his order, their guns all trained on the uncovered hole in the floor.

The heavy breathing turned into the sound of the Tank below them testing the air, and just as they reached the door, it let out a mighty bellow that made the walls and the floor shake.

"Oh shit." Louis spat, Zoey turning her back to the hole, running as she screamed over her shoulder.

"Run like hell!!"

The ground continued to shake, windows breaking in their frames, but in the time that it took the Tank to crawl out of the hole in the ground, the survivors had doubled back the way they came, Bill careful to close every door he could behind them as they went.

They needed to get to higher ground, and while the doors wouldn't hold the Tank back, the few seconds he would take to punch his way through them might be enough for them to find higher ground while hopefully losing him.

Zoey was the first to duck under the ladder of a fire escape, stopping short when something caught her jacket, her heart leaping up into her throat. When she turned her eyes upwards to see what she was caught on, they widened.

The Hunter snarled as he reached down further and took hold of her arms, dragging her up onto the fire escape and reaching for Louis as he ran past. The younger male yelped in surprise when he was yanked off his feet, the Hunter letting out a savage growl and fighting to keep his footing, arms shaking from the strain of Louis' weight.

Louis grabbed the ladder and pulled himself the rest of the way up, Bill and Francis not needing a boost or to be shown the way.

They scurried up onto the roof as a team, the Hunter leading the way, the shaking and bellowing from below growing in strength as the Tank barrelled around the corner. He rushed right past the fire escape, but the survivors couldn't put themselves at ease just yet. The noise Tanks made often attracted curious infected, so they didn't want to stick around to see what would happen.

Feet carrying them swiftly across the roof top, the Hunter limping ever so slightly, they hurried to get out of sight and out of reach, not daring to look over their shoulders.

Their flight to freedom and safety was halted, however, when the Hunter skid to a sudden stop, throwing his weight to the side and into Louis.

Francis let out a yell and brought his gun up to aim at the Hunter, stopping short when a long tongue suddenly lashed out and wrapped about the Hunter's injured leg, snapping taught and dragging him swiftly towards the edge of the building.

When the biker aimed his gun at the Smoker, Zoey pushed it down again, her voice frantic.

"NO! Stop!"

"I ain't gonna shoot the Hunter, Zoey!" He growled, but she shook her head furiously and refused to let go of his gun. "What?!"

"If you shoot now, he'll fall and die!" She cried, looking towards where the Hunter was now dangling upside down and soaring through the air towards the side of the taller building next door.

…

He hit his head hard when his sailing through the air was cut short by the wall of the building. Stars erupted in his vision, combining with the sudden and agonizing pain in his leg to make him physically sick.

Letting out a low moan, he felt too weak and shaky to even struggle, looking through blurry vision at the windows as they moved slowly past him, the long, powerful tongue of his brother dragging him up towards the roof.

Coughing and spitting, he focused on the pain in his leg, sharp enough to take his mind off the dizzying spinning and great length he now dangled off the ground, sharp enough to allow him to reach for a passing window ledge to grab hold of.

His ascent stopped, the tongue gripping him tightening around his wounded leg, the warmth of his blood flowing and the sound of her voice coming to him from a million miles away causing him to swing his other hand to the ledge, claws digging in.

He wasn't going to let this brother drag him off, not when the humans might still be in danger…

Screaming a challenge, he fought to pull his leg away, the bandages she had so carefully applied ripping away with what was left of his pant leg, his claws slipping ever so slightly on the window sill. His long tongued kin cried back in reply, pulling harder than ever now.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Releasing the ledge with one hand, he turned his dark eyes to gaze upwards with a snarl, his free hand reaching up with claws ready to sever the appendage wrapped about his leg. Though he twisted as he was released, trying to get a hold on the sill again, it was in vain…

Now he was falling into the blackness that waited below, scrabbling for something, anything to get his hands on to stop himself. After a few seconds with nothing, he braced his good leg against the wall behind him and pushed himself into the wall across from him, scrabbling wildly until he caught himself hard on another window ledge.

It hurt… his shoulders burned as his arms strained to drag him up and into the broken window, smears of blood being left in his wake, and he was immediately sick on the floor, a moan of despair escaping him as he crawled further in and collapsed, breath heaving.

He had to get up… he HAD to…


	10. Scene 10: Hope Fading

As soon as the Hunter dropped from the Smoker's grip, Francis opened fire, hitting the Smoker but not killing it and cursing fiercely when it ducked out of sight behind a vent on the roof across from them.

Zoey rushed to look over the edge of the building with a cry, Bill hurrying to pull her backwards.

"Careful!" He snarled, hearing the Hunter yelp below him, followed by the sound of scrabbling feet and vomiting. "I think he made it."

"We have to go get him!" Zoey cried, trying to pull away from Bill's grip, but the old man held fast, his face stern. "Bill, please!"

"Hate to break it up guys, but TANK!!" Louis shrieked, all four of them on their feet with their guns out in an instant. The beast had climbed up the side of the building, letting out a roar as it charged towards them.

"Holy shit!!!" Francis' voice was pitched high and frantic as he began pumping shotgun rounds into the approaching tank, watching Louis out of the corner of his eye as the man hurried across the roof away from them. "What the hell? Hey! Where do you think you're going?!"

When Louis hefted and threw a propane tank at the beast charging them, Bill let out a triumphant laugh, pulling a bomb from his belt and rolling it across the roof so that it landed near the Tank's feet. The Tank had stopped when the propane tank bounced off his massive chest, bellowing and taunting them, beating his chest with both fists. Louis hurried to the corner and tossed another tank, letting out something akin to a battle cry as he opened fire on them.

Zoey didn't argue when Bill grabbed her by the back of the sweater and hauled her behind a nearby vent, Francis joining them, shortly followed by Louis. Below them, somewhere, a Hunter screamed.

The tank thundered towards them again, angered by their retreat, but he didn't get far before the bomb went off, taking both tanks with it.

The resulting explosion was loud, showering the area with shrapnel and shaking the building as badly as the Tank's steps had, but from the injured howl of the Tank and the sound of the roof crumbling beneath him, it was safe to assume the plan had worked.

Zoey pulled her arms from her head and stood, peeking around the edge of the vent to see the damage they had inflicted.

Louis let out a low whistle as he gazed at the hole they had blown in the roof, Bill and Francis not stopping long enough to admire it much before herding the other two away.

"We need to get off this building and down into the sewers… I don't think we killed it, and I don't want to wait around to see what state it will be in when it wakes up." Bill muttered, Zoey nodding in agreement. He had his hand on her back protectively as they moved towards the fire escape once more, the way his mouth twisted indicating he was very much not in the mood to discuss the other infected they were leaving behind in this damaged building.

…

The ground was shaking furiously.

That could only mean one thing…

The mutant infected had found a way to reach them. He struggled briefly as he tried to push himself to his feet, legs shaking when he put his weight on them but holding none the less. The room spun around him, his shaking legs carrying him to the window opposite the one he had come in, and he let out another scream to let the humans know he was coming.

There was no reason to abandon them to this fate, there was no way he was going to just lay down and die while they fought for their very lives above him.

The explosion that occurred seconds later very nearly knocked him from the window, and he yelped in surprise before jumping back, looking around wildly for the source. The ceiling above him sagged under the weight of debris, his eyes widening, the realization of what was happening enough to drive his sluggish, battered body into overdrive.

He leapt from the window and caught hold of a drainpipe across from him, scaling it quickly but clumsily. When he reached the roof of the building, he turned on his heels to see the humans moving back down the fire escape.

They had survived…

Even better, they had managed to effectively incapacitate the massive mutant infected, the hole blown in the roof of the building big enough that he could see the creature's entire bulk from his vantage point.

No time to linger…

His strength wasn't going to last, and he had to catch up to the others before they got too far ahead. They couldn't possibly be thinking of leaving him behind, could they? Not now, not after he had saved them yet again.

Leaping down after them was out of the question, so he carefully made his way down to the ground the same way he had gotten to the roof, crouching onto all fours as he moved into the street. The pain in his leg and his head had dulled, it seemed, nothing but background noise now, and he fought back a deranged giggle as he scurried down the street.

That wasn't a very good sign…

His condition must have been pretty bad, either that or he looked worse than he thought because this time the other infected didn't try to come near him. This time, they watched him shuffle past and kept their distance, some of them not fast enough to move out of his way and meeting his claws accordingly.

Footsteps ran towards him as he approached the building the humans had entered before disturbing the massive infected now unconscious above them, the oldest of the humans turning the corner before the others did and spotting him first.

Their eyes met, the human's steel grey ones and his own dark silver grey, strangely luminescent in the light of the human's flashlight, the human gesturing to him with a jerk of his head after a few seconds. They both entered the building, where he crawled to his female and put one hand on her leg from his place crouched on the ground, her expression and her words both relieved.

…

Bill watched the exchange with his brows knit. The affection in Zoey's face made him more suspicious about what might have happened while the rest of them were sleeping, but it wasn't his place to pry. There was a cold feeling of regret deep inside him, an unspoken wish that he had told her how he felt long ago, before all of this messed up shit began, then he reminded himself that this wasn't the place, or the time.

"Good, you made it. God, I was so worried about you." Zoey murmured to the Hunter, who crouched next to her leg, trembling and bleeding on the floor.

"Reunions later, we gotta move." Louis reminded Zoey gently, the girl meeting his gaze and nodding. They moved together to the opening of the sewers, the Hunter leaping down first to make sure the coast was clear. Francis followed him, then Bill and Louis helped Zoey down before leaping in themselves, all of them taking a moment to recover from the pungent odor that now bombarded their noses.

As they moved, gunning down infected, the Hunter kept letting out delirious giggles, keeping up with them without too much trouble despite his injuries, and Francis shuddered, looking over at Zoey.

"Has he lost it or something'?" He growled, Zoey frowning in the Hunter's direction.

"No. I think he might be in shock."

"Good thing we're goin' to a hospital, then." Louis' voice held the same obnoxiously cheerful and optimistic note it always did, Zoey almost relieved to feel the familiar sensation of wanting to shoot him for daring to speak that way.

"If we meet another like him down here, there might be trouble." Bill said from his spot at the rear. "I don't think our little friend here is in any condition to fight. The normal infected aren't phasing him, but any of the others might be too much. Pushing him to move like this in his state is bad enough, we can't ask him to fight."

"So we shoot first and ask questions later." Francis grinned, shotgun firing at an advancing infected.

They moved through the network of tunnels, Louis and Bill using both their inner compasses to navigate until they came across a ladder to the surface.

"One of us needs to get up there to see what we're dealing with." Bill's voice had dropped to a whisper as they waited at the bottom of the ladder. "I'm sure you can all hear her."

The muffled sobbing and gasping of a Witch was coming from somewhere above them, even the Hunter being set on edge over it.

"We just need to know where she is in proximity to our location. Zoey, you've never spooked one before, and your eyes are best in the dark. I'm sorry, but-"

Zoey stepped up to Bill, interrupting his speech by putting a hand on his chest and smiling.

"Don't worry, old man, I think I've played this level before." She grinned, grabbing the ladder and beginning to move up. Bill scowled, hating it when she used references he didn't quite understand. It only served to remind him of the gap of years between them.

…

Zoey ascended the ladder carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible and leaving her flashlight behind. She kept a tight grip on her pistols as she climbed, relief flooding her when she realized the manhole cover above had already been moved.

With a Witch so close, she didn't think it would be wise to risk opening it, in case it disturbed her. Their fingers were like knives, and once they were on their feet, they moved FAST. Their screaming was also high pitched enough to attract the attention of other infected, so the best bet was to simply sneak past her without disturbing her.

Except for the fact that this particular Witch was sitting right next to the door of the hospital, in the red brake lights of a still running ambulance, her white hair and tattered clothing being stained by them and giving her a much more eerie look than normal.

Hopes sinking, Zoey looked around to see the sheer numbers of infected lingering in front of the hospital, some of them fighting with one another while others stood listlessly, waiting for conflict to find them. She slid back down the ladder and looked at the others, slowly shaking her head.

"We're fucked…" She breathed.


	11. Scene 11: Car Alarms and Pipe Bombs

Bill stood at the bottom of the ladder and watched Zoey climb up, the conversation the others were having behind him only holding half his attention.

Louis was looking at the Hunter with interest, the poor thing shuffling back and forth behind Bill in some demented semblance of pacing, his eyes also focused on Zoey as she climbed.

"I think we need to give our newest team member a name." He mused, Francis grunting in reply and giving him a look that hinted the biker thought he, too, had lost it. "Seriously, we can't keep calling him 'The Hunter,' can we? We should name him."

"Why not call him Rover. Or Rex?" Francis grinned, Louis shaking his head.

"No! We need to give him a human name."

Bill glanced over at them, then down at the Hunter, who was now growling at the back of his throat in agitation. He looked back at the other men, turning his eyes back up the ladder as he spoke.

"Call him Ishmael." He murmured, the other two glancing over at him in surprise. "It suits him."

"Ishmael." Louis mulled the word over, then smiled and nodded, moving to stand closer to the Hunter. "Ishmael." He pointed at the Hunter, who tilted his head to the side. "Louis." Louis indicated himself, then pointed back at the Hunter. "Ishmael."

The Hunter, Ishmael, let out a frantic, bubbling growl, looking back up the ladder once more, Louis laughing and giving up for the time being, returning to his spot.

At that moment, Zoey slid back down to join them, her face white. She leaned against the ladder weakly, eyes closing as she spoke.

"We're fucked…"

"What do you mean?" Bill put his hands gently on Zoey's shoulder, Ishmael leaning up to put a hand on her arm despite Bill's efforts to get him to keep his distance and give the girl room.

"There are infected all over the road up there. And the Witch is right in front of the hospital." Zoey pushed her filthy hair from her face. "We can't sneak around her, and there's no doubt in my mind we'll attract her attention by killing the other infected."

"We're not through yet, we can figure this out. Who has what?" Bill looked around the group, who gathered a little closer, producing what little they had left to fight with. Francis had been hording molotovs, ending up with three of them, while Louis had one of the bombs he had managed to rig up left. Bill and Zoey were running low on ammo for their bigger guns, but everyone had plenty for their pistols left.

Not wanting the Hunter to feel left out, Zoey turned to include him in the conversation and the count, only to find him being sick nearby and grimacing.

"That's another problem…" Bill murmured softly. "Ishmael's too sick to fight and he's gonna be a burden to us if we have to run."

The old man ran his hand over his hair while muttering to himself, and Zoey turned to look at the others.

"Ishmael?" She echoed, Louis offering her a smile.

"We named him for you." He patted Zoey on the shoulder, the girl's face lighting up, both of them laughing when Francis spoke beside them.

"I wanted to name him Rex, but they shot that idea down."

"Focus people, please. We've gotta figure this out, we can't sleep down here." Bill hated to end their light heartedness, but business had to be done before they could relax. "Zoey, do you remember seeing any cars out there with alarms? I think I have an idea."

"Use the car alarm to attract them all and set the bomb off underneath them?" Louis suggested, Bill grunting and giving him a nod. "Solid idea… if it works, we might be able to take all the lessers out before focusing on our Witch problem."

"If it works." Francis muttered, putting a few more rounds in his shotgun.

"I can check again for a car alarm." Zoey said, politely ignoring Francis' muttering. "Back in two seconds."

When she climbed up the ladder again, Bill moved to check on Ishmael. He was huddled around the corner, shaking badly now, his clothing soiled and soft moans of pain escaping his throat. The adrenaline he had been running on this far was obviously wearing off, and if they didn't get him some help soon, he wasn't going to make it.

For once, Ishmael didn't snap at him when he put his hand on his shoulder, either a good sign or a very bad one. Bill said his name softly, drawing the gaze of those dark eyes, a stern look on his face.

"C'mon. Don't give up yet, we're gonna get you fixed up, alright?" He murmured, Ishmael tilting his head to the side with a look that he didn't understand. When Bill took his arm and tugged him to his feet, he huffed a breath out in irritation and discomfort, moving to the ladder as Zoey came back down.

"Left side, looks like there's one near the entrance. We should have a clear shot if we're careful."

"And we only have one shot." Francis said below, Zoey nodding at him.

"I can hit the car without being seen, and I can throw the bomb when they've got their backs turned. The smell from down here should be enough to keep them from noticing us." Zoey actually looked at Ishmael as if to confirm this thought, but the Hunter obviously didn't understand what they were saying, gazing up at her anxiously from his spot next to Bill.

"Right… no time like the present." Louis replied, pulling the bomb from his belt and handing it up to Zoey. She climbed up half way and looked back down at them.

"Get ready to run." She said.

None of them needed reminding…

Zoey poked her head out the manhole very carefully, bringing up the hand with the pistol and taking aim at the car she had spotted.

She sucked a breath in, then fired, the result instantaneous.

The infected screamed from every side, rushing quickly towards the car, leaping over the manhole as she ducked back inside and paying no mind to the survivors below. Zoey peeked back again to see what the Witch was doing, the female infected still crouched behind the ambulance, glowing red eyes fixed on the manhole.

She had to do it now, or there wouldn't be another chance… so Zoey triggered the bomb, wound up and threw it towards the already bleeping car, more of the infected swarming over it, fighting to get to it.

She ducked back down again briefly, then gestured to the others and pulled herself out, whipping her rifle out as she ran. She couldn't shoot it very well while running, but she was going to give it her best shot.

The others climbed up behind her as quickly as they could, Bill lingering over the manhole and shouting curses as he fired at the infected who hadn't been killed in the blast that rocked the area a few seconds before. Zoey looked over her shoulder, scanning the street for any sign of Ishmael.

Where was he?

…

Bill glanced down after he had climbed the ladder, seeing Ishmael lagging behind them. The Hunter was unable to put pressure on his bad leg, which was considerably slowing the time it was taking for him to climb, so Bill hovered over the hole and shot any of the infected that got close, making sure their new team mate was going to be able to escape with them.

"C'mon! C'mon, bastards! Give me your best fucking shot!" He shouted, his gun spitting fire as the infected charged towards him.

Behind him, the others were handling the Witch alone. She had been on her feet when they climbed up, but hadn't attacked just yet…

Until Francis threw a molotov at her.

Screaming in pain, flaming as she chased him down the street, he leapt onto a car to escape her, the other two firing at her as she ran.

Below him, in the hole still, Ishmael let out a sudden scream of warning, the Witch's head snapping to the side to face the source of the noise. She changed direction, racing towards the hole while making noises like a wounded cat, knocking Zoey out of the way as she attempted to reach Ishmael.

Bill turned his gun on her as she approached, their combined efforts managing to fell her just before she reached Ishmael and the hole, her body crumpling lifelessly to the ground in flames.

Louis and Francis rushed to assist Zoey to her feet, Bill reaching down to haul Ishmael the rest of the way up, seeing that the Hunter's ascent had completely stopped.

They regrouped before moving towards the broken, open doors of the hospital, grabbing some supplies from the ambulance before entering.

"Secure a room for us, somewhere we can get clean and treat Ishmael!" Bill shouted, the others searching all the different rooms in the immediate area and shooting any infected that hadn't rushed outside to join the swarm. Bill kept his eyes open for the familiar fire red door of a safe room, knowing full well that they couldn't survive another attack.


	12. Scene 12: Obligatory Shower Scene

The room they had managed to secure, using heavy machines and dressers, chairs, practically anything they could get their hands on was large, had beds and a multi-stall bathroom with a small shower, the answer to their prayers for the time being.

The immediate concern was for the injuries they had sustained. All of them were covered in sewage from the knees down, including Ishmael, and the filth was sure to cause dangerous infections unless they got clean right away.

The boys let Zoey go first out of courtesy, a hitch in the plan coming in the shape of Ishmael, who refused to be separated from her. There were some concerns about them taking a shower together, obviously, and the protests were loud enough that Zoey decided the others should go first, giving her time to talk to Ishmael and hopefully convince him she wasn't going to leave him.

Bill busied himself washing his hands, arms, chest and face at a nurses station in the room, then he rummaged, shirtless, through one of the dressers pushed against the door. There were spare sets of scrubs in colors of white, green and purple inside, but as luck would have it, there weren't quite the right sizes needed for all of them.

For example, the purple ones he chose for Zoey were far too big, and the only ones he could find for Francis were also in purple, but until they could get their clothes clean, it would have to do. He figured they were all beyond shame now, after all.

Louis helped him gather up clothing after he and Francis had showered, shoving them to one side to be washed in the shower after everyone was done, then he settled down on one of the beds to rest while he waited. Bill was content to let him sleep, surprised when he climbed into the shower himself by how good it felt to have lukewarm water, clean water rushing over him. He scrubbed himself till his skin was pink and glowed, slipping into the set of scrubs he set aside and exiting the room.

"Zoey, you're up. Any luck?" He called. Zoey looked up at him with an exasperated expression, and Bill saw that Ishmael had taken firm hold of her sleeve, his eyes and face threatening harm if they tried to dislodge him. "I take that as a no."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed Francis had taken. The man was already snoring… typical.

"I could just take him with me. It's not like we're going to be doing anything but getting clean, Bill… and even if we did-"

"Stop talking, Zoey. Just… stop." Bill couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. The girl had jumped rather quickly to her own defense, hadn't she?

Cheeks flushed, Zoey looked up at him and nodded a bit, putting her hand over Ishmael's. The Hunter crooned softly at the back of his throat, turning his eyes to Bill, the old man sighing again.

"When we get him clean, I want to stitch his wound, keep it from getting worse, y'know?" Zoey's voice had gotten soft, and Bill looked back at her, his expression one of concern. "If anything, it'll let him actually be of use to us out there. We're close now, Bill, we're almost there…"

"What are we going to do when we evacuate, Zoey? With him?" He gestured to Ishmael, who again tilted his head to the side. "Do you really think they'll let us take him with us?"

"I think you're right about him, Bill. You're right about him being the key to changing all of this." She stood, Ishmael struggling to his feet as well, her face turning up in a smile ever so slightly. "Now, I might as well go and get this over with, right?"

"I'll keep watch." Bill said, nodding at her as she headed into the bathroom, the glance he exchanged with Ishmael ending with the Hunter also offering him a slight smile.

It didn't make him feel any better.

…

"Okay, so, first things first…" Zoey pulled off her hoodie, standing there in her white t-shirt and gazing down at Ishmael. "You're next. Off goes the sweater."

He used his teeth to tug his arms out of the sleeves of the sweater, then crouched down and wrestled himself out of it, shaking himself before straightening up again. He was just as filthy as she was, so it was hard to see his features clearly even without the sweater and the hood. His hair looked black, his skin was mottled, and his eyes were still glowing.

"Right. I think you've got the picture." Zoey murmured, her hands shaking a little more than she would have liked as she undid her belt and slipped it from her belt loops, setting it on the counter by the sink. She removed the rest of her clothing, leaning to turn on the shower while she waited for Ishmael to do the same.

When she looked over her shoulder, however, he was still crouched on the ground with his pants on, his eyes shifting to her then away again rather rapidly. Zoey frowned, raising an eyebrow at him, then folded her arms over her chest.

"What's the matter? Don't go and get stage fright on me now." She muttered, holding one hand out to him. To her surprise, he shrank away and looked down at the floor, a whimper escaping his throat, and she sighed shortly, crouching down to be more on level with him. "What's wrong, Ishmael? You weren't this shy the other day… mind you, I suppose being naked does change things a little."

He growled softly in response, but Zoey didn't allow him to escape his fate for long, eventually pouncing on him and pinning him backwards on the ground. As she attempted to wrestle him out of his pants, he struggled, growling steadily, claws digging into her arms and pushing at her. He even went so far as to bite her gently, but nothing he did deterred her from disrobing him, her smirk satisfied when she sat back after succeeding.

"There… now we're even." Zoey grinned at him, standing and moving to the running shower. There was still hot water, but she supposed hospitals were built to not run out… either way, it was a relief. "Come on, hard part's over. For goodness sakes, Ishmael, I am the last person in the world that's going to judge you…"

Ishmael didn't seem to care much about her nakedness, but his own seemed to bother him greatly, Zoey feeling both frustrated and confused by this. She tugged him into the shower stall, aware that he was shaking worse than she was, a shiver moving through her body when the hot water hit her. Ishmael hissed in discomfort when the water washed over his wounds, Zoey now able to see the extent of them as the outer filth was washed away.

He was covered in injuries, none quite as bad as the one on his leg, but lots of them. There were five jagged cuts down his back, puncture wounds on his side, scratches and cuts and bruises all over his arms and legs, even the shadowy remains of a black eye. She ran her hands over his skin, looking down at him with horror in her face.

"God… what did they do to you?" She whispered, Ishmael simply staring up at her without speaking. She traced her fingers over scars on his arms and shoulders, eventually coming to one that looked like a bite mark where his neck and shoulder met on the right side. The wound was mostly healed, but so complete that she could see where each tooth had sunk in. When her fingers brushed against it, Ishmael let out a rather fierce growl of warning and jerked away, her eyes widening.

She gazed down at him, their eyes meeting, and she wondered if there was a way to ask him without words that he didn't understand if that was the wound that had turned him…

He leaned into her and rubbed his chin against her shoulder with a soft groan, so she began rubbing more of the filth off of his skin. There would be time for questions later, she supposed, right now was the time to get clean.

When Zoey broke out the soap, there was another brief struggle considering how much it stung his wounds, but she eventually managed to get them both washed off, starting immediately on his hair.

It was still black while being soaking wet, a little long, but it was soft once it was clean. Under the grime that had been covering him, his skin was still mottled, but she supposed that was from the infection. He wasn't very tall, not even standing up straight, and it was obvious now why his stubble was so short even after weeks of being without a razor. Zoey could probably guess at his age, knowing he was probably even younger than she was at this point, thought not by much.

Being in college, she had seen her fair share of boys that came and went, and while she hadn't actually done the deed with any of them, there had been moments where clothing had been removed. She knew what a man's body looked like…

Ishmael measured up pretty well. While the dark hair, mottled skin and silver grey eyes painted a sullen picture and his wiry frame was too skinny for her tastes, while he wasn't the type of guy she would generally go for…

At this moment, as they stood with their skin touching, unhindered, as they stood under the warm water that fell over them in a steady stream, she found herself falling for him, hopelessly so.

Instead of trying to tell him this, however, she set about washing her own hair, taking a good deal of shampoo to finally get it to feel clean again. Ishmael was mostly silent, staring at her as she worked…

She didn't know if her face would ever stop burning.

…

…

…

Author's Note!

Thanks again for all the reviews, haha, I KNOW I update really quickly, I'm really happy and excited about this story and eager to see the end.

Obligatory shower scene, every movie's gotta have one, right?


	13. Scene 13: Understanding or Lack of it

The knock on the door startled her and Ishmael both, though it caused only Ishmael to slip on the shower floor with a yelp, clinging to Zoey for dear life so he wouldn't fall. Bill's voice filtered through the running water and the bathroom door, his tone curious but not scolding.

"You two still alive in there?"

Zoey cursed softly under her breath and ran her fingers over her wet hair, sighing before answering.

"Yeah, we're fine! I finally got him clean, we'll be out in a minute." She called back, reaching behind her to turn off the water. She was going to miss this wonderful shower…

Ishmael put his hands on her waist and pulled her close again when she tried to leave the shower, tilting his head to the side slightly as he looked at her. She met his gaze, raising an eyebrow, then reached out and put her hand over his mouth as he leaned closer, a giggle escaping her.

"You just spent the last few hours throwing up… you are so not kissing me until you brush your teeth or something, Ishmael." She said, the inquisitive growl that escaped from him making her giggle again.

Nothing like a hot shower to lift the spirits…

Once they were dressed, they moved out into the barricaded room again, seeing that only Bill was still awake. The old man blinked at Ishmael in surprise, watching him wander around the room as Zoey hunted for something to stitch his leg with, grunting softly and looking towards the girl.

"Good job. You almost can't tell he's not human anymore." He murmured, smoke from one of his last remaining cigarettes curling around his head lazily.

"Oh, he's still definitely mostly human." Zoey's voice was curiously muffled by the fact she had her head practically in a drawer across the room, but Bill didn't need to see her to know she was blushing furiously. "Remember, he's just sick."

She produced a few items from the drawer, shutting it with her foot as she moved back across the room to Ishmael, who had been looking for an entrance or an exit that they had overlooked themselves.

He was curiously lanky in his green scrubs, the fringe of unruly black hair that fell into his eyes almost disguising the fact that they glowed.

"C'mon, let's get your leg fixed up." She smiled as she crouched down in front of him, but there must have been some part of what she said that he understood, or he knew precisely what the needle she was holding was for, because he leapt to his feet and dashed across the room, scaling a pile of debris like a monkey to escape from her.

Both she and Bill erupted into laughter, waking Louis who sat up with a start and looked around with wide eyes. When he saw Ishmael crouching at the top of the pile, peering at them with suspicious eyes, he joined in the laughter, shaking his head and rubbing his own eyes.

Nothing they did right now would stir Francis from his sleep, but if Ishmael started screaming, there was a safe bet he'd be up and reaching for his shotgun in no time.

After a few minutes of attempting to coax Ishmael down, Zoey sat on the bed Louis had been sleeping on with a defeated sigh, frowning.

"I hate to hurt him, but he's gotta get stitched up or he'll keep tearing that wound open and it will never heal properly." She remarked, crossing her legs and leaning back on the bed. Louis had already gone into the bathroom to start washing their clothes, telling Zoey that Ishmael would come down when the time was right. He seemed reluctant at the prospect of holding Ishmael down while Zoey tortured him with kindness again, but told her he would help when the time came regardless.

Bill was resting his own eyes, back propped up against the wall next to the bed Zoey sat on, Ishmael's steady growling and Francis' snoring seeming to be like a lullaby to him that drew him into a deeper embrace of sleep than he had intended.

Zoey fished around in their belongings until she found one of the boxes of crackers that she had tucked away, leaning back on one hand while she ate them, still frowning up at Ishmael. She wished he understood their urgency, their need to assist him, hell, she wished he understood anything about them at all. If she could get him to sit down for a minute, actually SIT STILL, she could teach him, she was sure.

He growled a little more deeply at her, his eyes shifting from suspicious to longing as he eyed the food she was eating.

"I am not that evil." She said outloud when the thought popped into her head to bribe him with food to get him to come down. She continued eating, watching him carefully, another sigh escaping her when he did indeed climb down, crawling to her as he gazed up with hopefulness in his face. "So, you're going to make me feel even worse about this, aren't you?"

Louis exited the bathroom in time to see her brush her fingers over Ishmael's cheek, tracing them down his jawbone and chin, a slow smile touching her lips. He felt vaguely voyeuristic, clearing his throat gently as he moved to the sink to wash his hands. Zoey looked over her shoulder at him, fingers falling away, then held up the box of crackers.

"You should grab some food." She murmured. "No reason not to eat just because the others aren't."

"How we doin' for food, anyway?" He asked in reply, moving to their belongings to find something of his own to eat. There were still plenty of cans, the kind with the top that you could pull off, and there were a few packages of chips, cookies and crackers they had salvaged from the last store they stopped at.

Not enough to eat until they were full and satisfied, but enough at least to take the edge off the hunger. There was enough water here to keep them going and refill their water bottles before heading to the roof for evac, too.

The thought of the final push sobered him, and he sat down on the bed with Zoey to eat in silence.

It was fun, but at the same time a little demeaning to feed Ishmael, who would do literally anything, including biting them to get the food they offered, Zoey's giggles rousing Bill from rest. He grunted and looked up in time to see Ishmael seize Louis' hand in both of his, practically gnawing on his fingers to get the cookie concealed behind them.

"Ow, hey, watch it!" Louis cried, the grin on his face being echoed by Zoey's.

"Quit teasing him, Louis." Bill grumbled, managing to get to his feet stiffly. "Ugh… shouldn't have fallen asleep like that, my old bones are protesting."

Louis released the cookie, which Ishmael shoved into his mouth whole, but before he could dart away with his food, Zoey leapt off the bed onto him again, his yelp muffled and distorted by the fact that he refused to relinquish his cookie even while Zoey was pinning him down and readying her needle to do what she had intended to before all this started.

Louis rolled his eyes, moving to join her, diligently holding down Ishmael's arms to keep him from trying to push her or claw her while she stitched him up.

Ishmael whimpered but managed not to scream as Zoey worked, and even though she had no experience doing this sort of thing, she managed pretty well. The wound was looking much better now that it was clean, but it was still oozing blood, so she bandaged it after the stitching was finished, standing again to look down at him.

Louis' expression was unreadable when he also released his hold on Ishmael, but the look on the Hunter's face was unmistakeable.

He was grateful, but there were still tears streaming down his cheeks, and he rolled onto all fours, scrubbing at his face with both hands while letting out an anguished sound…

Past the cookie he still had in his mouth.

Zoey watched him slink back to his spot on the pile of debris, unable to keep the smile from her face despite his obvious discomfort with the situation, knowing things would probably be easier from here on out for him.

…

Ishmael finished eating the food they had given him, crouching indignantly as he watched them prepare for rest. He wondered if it was a human thing, the need to pin someone down and force something upon them for their own good whether they like it or not…

Or maybe it was just a female thing. The others never did it, only she did, and though others helped her, it was always her who instigated it. He growled in her direction, trying to convey his distaste with the situation, but the smile she shot him in return made the distaste diminish.

He contemplated creeping down to join her on the bed she was resting on, but the oldest man was on watch now and Ishmael was sure he wouldn't approve, so he stayed put. Watching her sleep from here wasn't as comforting as sleeping in her embrace, he was sure, but it would do for now.

It didn't take long for him to slip into the arms of Death's second self as well, the image of her as she looked as they bathed offering him pleasant dreams.

…

…

…

Author's Note!

Well, this chapter was a little slow, I know, but there will be more to come and hopefully more action to be had!

For fun, I will include the Soundtrack! to this note so you can all see what kinds of music I use for inspiration. A bonus with the soundtrack is the song I've sort of deemed to be Ishmael and Zoey's song…

Xerxes' Tent - Soundtrack from the movie 300

Godsibb - Eri Itoh, the Xenosaga III soundtrack

Road to Chicago - From the movie Road to Perdition

Plastic Bag Theme - from the movie American Beauty

Breathe Your Name - Zoey and Ishmael's theme, by Sixpence None the Richer

Figured You Out - Nickleback

Run!! - FFX soundtrack

Donkey Kong Country Chekan Winters - from OC Remix, awesome website

Weight of the World - Evanescence, the Open Door

Smell of Desire - Enigma

Sally's Song - Fiona Apple

If We Kissed - Fiona Apple

The Dumbing Down of Love - Frou Frou

Up is Down - Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack

Enjoy the Silence - Lacuna Coil

I think that's it for now… songs I use for inspiration change ALL the time, so there might be more attached to the next chapter. I have… weird taste in music, I know.


	14. Scene 14: A Near Miss

Ishmael's dreams were dominated by dreams that lacked definition, filled with mist and swirling with things that seemed at once terribly familiar and utterly confusing. He saw faces of people he had never met, yet knew so well, he heard voices that he had heard so many times before yet didn't remember hearing at all before, he smelled and tasted things foul and fair both, everything so familiar…

Then the mist and horror and swirling stopped, replaced by the remembrance of water washing over his bare skin, bare skin he pressed close to the equally bare form of the girl he had risked life and limb for. All the fair and foul smells were stripped away, being replaced by her scent, the scent that had haunted every waking moment and filled every single second of his dreams.

Her voice, her laughter, both so sweet he wished to hear nothing else. Her taste, so distinct, so sweet he knew he would never forget it. Her touch, gentle yet painful, her fingers causing him to tremble and shooting lances of fire through his body. The indescribable sight of her uncovered, naked as the day she was born…

He remembered the blistering kiss they had shared, remembered the heat and tightness of his body as they pressed together, disregarding filth and disease and age and gender, so caught up that the only thing that mattered at that second was one another.

In his dream, the world melted away until it was just the two of them…

Just the two of them, nothing to stop them, no one to tell them it was wrong. If Ishmael had his way, he wouldn't ever wake up.

This dream was so much better than the reality that waited for him when he opened his eyes.

It wasn't until a foul smell that had nothing to do with his dreams and memories invaded his senses that he stirred, dream melting away to reveal the strangely lit safe room they had barricaded themselves in. Not being able to see outside, he had no idea what time it was, and even if he had been able to read the clock, the dark skinned human appeared to have pulled it apart to use for one thing or another.

He rolled to his feet, stretching and shaking before sitting back on his heels and sniffing at the air, a deep rumble escaping his throat.

…

Louis had been sitting up on his watch, dismantling a few objects around the room to make more of the bombs he had managed to rig up before. They had saved their asses more than a few times, and having more on hand, rescue or no, would be comforting. They were at the home stretch now, and they needed to make sure they could hit their last ball into the outfield, or even get a grand slam…

He hoped they could all make it on that helicopter in one piece.

Ishmael was doing an awful lot of twitching and grunting at the top of his pile of debris, but Louis managed to tune it out the same way he did with Francis' snoring, humming softly to himself as he worked to distract himself from it.

Too much background noise would probably put him to sleep, and he needed to be as alert as possible while doing this sort of task.

How awesome would it be if he managed to blow them all up while they were sleeping? Especially this damn close to getting the hell out of the city and away from the infection.

Ishmael finally gave a snort and kicked his feet a few times, sitting up with a start and looking around the room. His hair had dried so that it was shaggy and dishevelled, fringe of black bangs still hanging in his face, his silver-grey eyes wide as he peered around the room. He rolled easily to his feet and stretched much like a dog would, the shake he gave himself lending to the image nicely. When he began to sniff the air and growl, Louis put the beeping contraption he had been about to attach to the bomb down and swallowed, regarding him carefully.

He had to resist the urge to say "What's the matter, boy?" and reminded himself forcefully that Ishmael wasn't a pet or an animal of any sort, instead standing quietly and waiting for the Hunter to indicate something was wrong.

Ishmael did this by moving to the bed where Zoey slept and tugging her out of it so she landed on the floor with a squawk, arms flailing. The movement woke up Bill, the sound woke up Francis, both men grumbling, swearing and blinking around them in alarm.

"Somethin's got Ishmael spooked." Louis offered as if to explain the strange behavior the Hunter was now displaying, wishing Francis would put his gun down for one second so he didn't accidently shoot Ishmael. He shot a glance at the table.

He had managed to finish three of the bombs, two others sitting in wait almost expectantly, a part of him wishing for just a few more hours of peace and quite so he could make sure they walked out of here well prepared.

"Don't think that Tank found us, d'ya?" Francis' words were still slurred by his sudden shift to wakefulness, and Bill grunted in reply, both hands on his assault rifle.

"We would have heard it or felt it by now. Whatever it is, though, is bugging Ishmael."

The Hunter was now pacing on all fours, looking up towards the ceiling while growling in agitation, the whole picture seeming so convoluted and wrong with Ishmael in his green scrubs, no hood and not screaming at them.

He looked like a half grown man, shuffling around on the floor like a dog.

"Sorry folks." Bill's voice was soft, but there was a tone to it that they were all very familiar with and had come to recognize by now. "We better get moving."

"Yeah." Louis replied, moving to the table to collect the bombs he had managed to finish. He gave one each to Bill and Zoey, keeping one for himself and allowing Francis to continue carrying his molotovs without further burdens.

Forgoing any further shame, they all dressed as quickly as they could in their real clothing, deciding it was better than running about in scrubs, though Ishmael kept the pants he was wearing and simply put his hoodie on over his shirt. The pants he had been wearing weren't able to be saved, so utterly soiled and tattered they were practically falling apart.

They unbarricaded the door with relative ease and as quietly as they could possibly manage, Francis moving out first with Louis on his tail, Bill opting to take up the rear. Zoey and Ishmael kept close together, Zoey having to keep him from rushing ahead and frowning in concern at his sudden twitchiness.

He dashed ahead suddenly, his leg appearing to be doing much, much better, one hand darting out to grab the back of Francis' jeans. Francis let out a growl of protest when Ishmael tugged him sharply backwards, the protest dying behind his clenched teeth when a stream of putrid, sickly green vomit flew from around the corner to land where he had been standing seconds before.

"BOOMER!" The biker hollered, the spoken of bloated infected dashing around the corner as quickly as it could to sink its claws into Francis' flesh. Francis screamed in pain but didn't let the creature knock him down, both he and Louis batting it backwards before backing up a few steps.

Too fat and heavy to catch itself, it stumbled backwards and fell on its fat ass, one well aimed shot from Bill catching it between the eyes. It didn't burst as they often did when they were shot, the bullet to the head seeming to have been enough to kill it without popping it.

"Jesus…" Francis muttered, wondering how they were going to get over the pile of Boomer bile now splattered all over the hallway AND past the Boomer, who might explode if they brushed against his corpse. "I owe you one, Hunter."

"If we follow these signs to the elevator…" Bill mumbled from behind them. "We should be able to get to the roof."

"That elevator's probably gonna make a hell of a racket." Louis replied, grimacing ever so slightly. "We'll have to be ready."

"Good thing you made bombs then, kid." Bill smiled at him past the cigarette he had stuck in his mouth, lifting his rifle before stepping forward past them and none too gracefully over the Boomer bile on the hallway floor. The others followed his lead, Zoey noticing that Ishmael had calmed down a bit but was still looking around rather nervously.

Part of her wondered if perhaps the smell of the bile was interrupting his ability to smell everything else that might be around the hospital near them at this very moment. It wasn't good, not at all…

Now they wouldn't know if something was coming until it was on top of their heads, but it was a risk they were going to have to take. They couldn't go back now.

Forward was the only way.

Ahead of them, as they all edged past the Boomer corpse and headed up the hallway, Francis' voice echoed off the curiously bare walls of the hallway.

"I hate elevators."

…

…

…

Author's note!!

So, this chapter took me a little longer to churn out. I think I rewrote it three or four times. It's one of those cases where I'm not entirely sure I like it, but I am sure the block is gone and there will be more stuff to read tomorrow!


	15. Scene 15: The Darker Side

They decided against a mad rush up the hallway, instead taking their time to get carefully around debris, corpses and various infected who launched themselves out of many of the side rooms. They closed every door they came across, hoping to hinder the progress of anything that might be following them without them knowing.

Ishmael shuffled along with a sense of urgency hanging about him, though at this point in time he was utterly and completely silent. Not a growl had escaped him since they left the Boomer behind, Zoey still undecided on whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

They rounded the corner into the ICU, the smell of death and decay even worse here than the other areas. There was far more blood, and to their surprise, police tape covering many of the doors. Some of the rooms, the ones that were used for the worst, most contagious cases of disease had the yellow biohazard sign glaring from their still intact windows, the infected that were trapped inside throwing themselves at the glass as the survivors passed.

"Something big happened here." Bill murmured, eying one of the rooms guarded by yellow tape, the smoke from his cigarette curling towards the ceiling.

"No shit." Francis replied with a grunt, his shotgun still clutched protectively in his hands. "Of course, all the cops did was put up tape to indicate where people started tearin' each other apart in here."

"This certainly doesn't smell like a hospital." Louis' voice was soft, Bill glancing over his shoulder with a shrug at the younger man.

"I've smelled worse…" Was the old man's reply.

The hallway to the left led them straight to the elevator, and the survivors paused outside it while Louis investigated whether or not it was going to work.

"It seems like the power is still running to it, and as long as it hasn't been damaged too badly, it should still move." He hesitated with his finger over the button, looking over at all of them with an unsure look about him. Shifting from one foot to the other, he took in a breath. "Are we sure about this? One hundred percent sure? Cause if we aren't-"

"Press the damn button." Bill growled, leaning over to do it for him. "I'm not getting' any younger and I'm not takin' the damn stairs."

The elevator paused a second before lurching to life, the noise surely more than enough to attract attention. Zoey put her hand on Ishmael's shoulder, the Hunter looking around wildly. If he wasn't so human, his ears might have been twitching, and it was bad enough that he lifted his face and began to sniff the air.

A low, bubbling growl escaped him, Zoey allowing him to prowl up the hallway they had come down to reach the elevator, her pistols coming up to cover him.

"Ishmael." She called, the Hunter pausing to look over his shoulder before hurrying away up the hallway more. "He's like a real life Stitch… look at him."

"The likeness IS uncanny… what with the sharp claws and teeth and what have you. Would be better if he were wearing blue." Louis contributed, the two of them laughing softly.

The laughter and mood lifting stopped seconds later when the first screams of the horde reached them. The elevator had indeed attracted some attention… they needed to be sure they were ready for this.

Another Hunter dropped from the ceiling in front of them, through a vent, his scream cut short when Zoey shot on instinct, catching him in the head. As his body crumpled, his last breath expelled as a pathetic little yelp, she exhaled sharply, unaware she had been holding her breath.

"Ishmael!!" She shouted over her shoulder, spinning to begin firing on the horde that swarmed around the corner. Beside her, behind her, the others had opened fire as well, the walls behind them thumping and creaking ominously. If the horde managed to break through, they would be surrounded.

They didn't have enough bullets to be surrounded.

As they fought, one of the infected went sailing through the air, crashing into the wall just down the hallway, the small figure of Ishmael suddenly in the midst of the horde. He screamed and slashed, cutting the infected down effortlessly, occassionally throwing another one up the hall or to the side, managing to prove a good enough distraction that the infected behind the wall on the left side stopped attempting to break through.

It became very clear that cleaning his wound and allowing him to get a good sleep in had done Ishmael wonders. He still favored one leg, but his ability to fight was no longer hindered by pain and blood loss, and he proved this by dancing about the swarm, leaving zombies dead in his wake. They supported him as best they could, careful not to shoot him as well. He blended in pretty good with the other zombies, and none of them were terribly interested in him, clamoring over one another to get to the survivors.

The elevator ground away steadily behind them… four more floors now…

Zoey heard the Smoker and the Boomer before she could see them, her breath catching in her chest. Either one would be bad news with all the other infected around, but the Boomer would probably be worse if it reached them first.

"Elevator's here!" Louis shouted above the sound of screaming, howling infected, all four of them moving backwards towards it as the doors opened, still firing. Zoey paused just outside the elevator, Francis holding the door for her, her voice rising above the din sharply.

"Ishmael, c'mon! Get your ass over here!"

The Hunter straightened from the crowd slowly, his eyes gleaming a little more than normal and his chest heaving. Growls continued to steadily escape him, his claws sinking into the throat of a nearby infected and tearing it out as if for good measure. He howled a challenge at those still standing, causing a few of them to back off, then he too began to back towards the elevator.

Once they were inside and the doors slid closed, Zoey moved to check on Ishmael, trying to see and make sure that he wasn't injured during the fight. They all took some time to catch their breath, Bill lifting his gun to train it on the Hunter as Zoey crouched down in front of him.

Ishmael was incredibly tense, a grin on his face as he continued to pant and growl, claws twitching on the floor. He tilted his head to the side as Zoey murmured his name again, taking her arms in his hands and quickly pushing her up against the side of the elevator wall hard.

Both Francis and Louis let out curses, their guns also coming up, and Bill stepped a bit closer.

"Zoey." He said in warning, the girl holding up a hand to tell them to wait.

Ishmael's growls grew less fierce, softer, the tension leaving his shoulders and back as he leaned forward, pressing his face into the side of her neck and breathing deeply. Zoey's eyes fluttered closed briefly, then she looked up at the others, pitching her voice low.

"It's alright… he's not going to hurt me." She sounded a bit breathless, her cheeks flushing crimson when Ishmael drew his tongue up the side of her neck slowly and deliberately, a deep growl of appreciation escaping his throat.

She put her hands on his chest and gave him a gentle push, his eyes raising to lock on her face, focusing a little more as he blinked a few times. He heaved a shuddering sigh, pushing himself away from her and putting his hands over his face.

For a few minutes, as the elevator ascended, none of them moved. The only sounds were the mechanical ones of the elevator and their labored breathing, then Ishmael exhaled slowly, a long and drawn out groan escaping him. He hissed a few times, then growled again, peeking out from behind his hands.

Zoey was rubbing at her neck again with her hood, her eyes not leaving the Hunter, but it was Francis that spoke up to break the relative silence.

"I think he's trying to talk."

"Ya think?" Louis frowned over at the biker, then looked down at Ishmael, who lowered his hands and continued making the same strange noises. Hiss, then growl… hiss, then growl. "Yeah, maybe he is."

"Despite him being a part of this team tentatively, the infection is still in him and may still get the better of him. We've really got to be careful around him." Bill murmured. "In case his darker side starts to show."

"He's trying to appologize." Zoey murmured in amazement, her eyes widening as she gazed at Ishmael. "He's trying to say he's sorry!"

When she spoke the last word, Ishmael straightened a bit, then gave her an eager nod.

"I guess, like an animal, he just needed some time to keep hearing it to understand what it meant." Louis also crouched down beside Zoey, looking at the Hunter with interest. The elevator lurched slightly, a soft ding letting them know they had arrived. "Hey… this is only the twenty eighth floor… the roof is two floors up."

"This might be as high as it goes." Bill moved out of the elevator first, shooting a few infected that came barrelling around the corner. "I guess we have no choice but to find another way up to the roof."


	16. Scene 16: The Apex

On this floor, the elevator doors had been torn off or blown off in some manner, simply ceasing to be there. The survivors and Ishmael crept out, weapons and claws ready, the half finished floor they now stood on allowing them to see most of the infected that lurked there. They got rid of what they could, trying to conserve as much ammo as possible considering how low they got during the fight downstairs.

As they walked, flashes of lightning and roaring thunder came from all around them. The storm must have started while they were inside the other safe room, secure enough that they hadn't heard it at all. The lightning illuminated shapes that were otherwise invisible in the pouring rain and enveloping darkness, offering them an easier time with the infected than they might have had on the ground.

However, they hadn't gotten far from the elevator when they felt the floor rumbling, the thunder outside having nothing to do with it. Exchanging glances, then looking down at their weapons, all of them felt hope sinking quickly.

"What do we do?" Louis asked, Bill looking gravely at the elevator as he mulled it over. "Bill… man, what do we do? If it comes up here-"

"We're as good as dead, kid." Bill finished for him, Zoey meeting his eyes and shaking her head ever so slightly. "We're so damn close to rescue now, I can taste it. I'll be damned if we die now."

Ishmael began tugging at Zoey's sleeve, drawing her attention, though his wild gesturing at the elevator made no sense to her whatsoever. He rushed back onto the machine, jabbing his finger at the button for floor 27 and huffing quietly. When the elevator began to move, he leapt back out to join them, all of them again exchanging glances.

What exactly was the point of making more noise?

The shaking beneath them grew worse, and the Tank's voice carried up the elevator shaft, the sound of his fists punching through stone and metal causing the survivors to back away slowly.

"Is it IN the elevator?" Francis asked, eyes so wide they might just pop out. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck did he go and do that for?!"

"Before you shoot him, Francis," Zoey began heatedly, "Think for a minute what he might be trying to do. Ishmael has done nothing to prove he's working against us."

The Tank continued to bellow, the elevator creaking in protest below them. Bill stared at the open doors, his eyes trailing upwards to the thick cords that drew the machine upwards along its track. His eyes slowly widened and he looked down at Ishmael, who was peering around the group hopefully.

"Shoot it." Bill brought his gun up even as he spoke. "Shoot it down. Or better yet, toss a few bombs into it. One way or another, bring that thing down!"

Zoey's eyes widened in realization as well, and she began rooting through Francis' pack.

"Hey!" The big man protested, trying to pull it back away from her, but he wasn't fast enough to keep her from pulling out one of his precious molotovs.

"This will help… if it thrashes around enough, it'll bring the thing down itself." She said in an attempt to justify her theft and invasion of his personal space. She lobbed the molotov into the hole at the top of the elevator, the resulting wave of heat and roar of pain from the Tank proving she hit her mark.

The wrenching sound of metal being torn away grew louder… the Tank was coming out the top of the elevator.

Bill and Francis opened fire on the machinery holding the elevator up, Louis rapidly hitting the down button in an attempt to get the Tank further away from them.

The huge beast continued to bellow furiously, grabbing ahold of the cable as it attempted to pull itself out of the top of the elevator, flames licking at its body and leaving behind ugly red and black burns.

Ishmael had crept backwards away from the fire when it started, his growls becoming rather frantic once more, the guns seeming to have no effect on the cables or the machinery.

"Stop wastin' ammo!" Louis shouted, aiming downwards with his pistols. "It's not working!"

He shot at the Tank's hands, successfully harming one of them enough to make the creature let go, watching him drop back into the flame engulfed elevator. The thing with Tanks was, they were stubborn as all hell…

This one wasn't going to give up just because of a little fire.

Launching itself upwards again, grabbing the cable with one badly burned hand, the Tank let out a roar that shook the walls and the floor like an earthquake. It was so consumed with trying to intimidate them and let them know just how angry it was, it didn't notice the bomb that Louis dropped on top of the elevator. Seeing the Survivors duck out of the way and disappear from sight only infuriated it further, and its screams chased them across the half finished floor as they made a break for it.

Even as they were running, they heard and felt the explosion, the resulting scream of metal and diminishing howls of the Tank letting them know their plan held the desired effect. The crash of the elevator landing on the bottom floor very suddenly reverbrated all throughout the building, but they didn't stop just to go back and check if the Tank was dead.

Even if it had by some miracle survived, it would be too tied up to come after them again anytime soon. That left them with enough time to get to the safe room…

When they reached it, they didn't pause for long, happy to see the ammo that had been left behind by the previous survivors and they took a moment to catch their breath.

…

Ishmael scrubbed some of the blood off of his face as he waited for them to continue, his heart pounding in anticipation of what might be to come. He could sense the urgency of the others, but wasn't sure exactly what the point of climbing all the way up here was.

His clothing were filthy again, and he questioned the necessity of cleaning them in the first place at all. Humans were strange creatures sometimes…

His female didn't stray far from him, her hand resting on his shoulder so that he could feel it trembling. She might have been hungry, but she didn't smell scared, the scent of need also absent from her. She was tense, her expression guarded…

Clearly, there was something she knew that she didn't want him to. Since there was really no way for him to understand her words unless they had a lot more time than they did, he supposed he would never really know.

The oldest of the humans was talking again, his words firm and enough to pull his female from his side, her head nodding in agreement with him.

As they readied their weapons, she turned to look at him, her expression turning from guarded to anguished, something he didn't quite understand.

Ishmael frowned up at her, touching her leg in an attempt to convey his concern without words.

She managed a brief smile that didn't touch her blue eyes, then she turned quickly away from him to hurry after the others. He waited for a moment before following…

Something was obviously very wrong. Something was waiting for them at the top of the building, wasn't it?

He couldn't help being overly tense and on his guard as he moved with them, more than happy to be chosen as the first to ascend the ladders leading up to the roof. He made sure it was safe for them to come up, beckoning to them, and when they had joined them, he pointed across to a small building across the roof.

There was something in the building making enough noise to attract the attention of humans like them, but pitched low enough it probably wouldn't attract the attention of the infected. Perhaps this contraption was what the humans were looking for?

The oldest human slapped him on the shoulder in a gesture that didn't seem aggressive or ill tempered, Ishmael deciding it was some way of telling him he had done a good job. He followed them down to the building, swivelling in all directions to make sure there were no immediate threats in the area before entering the building and crouching down on the floor.

…

It made Zoey feel sick, seeing Ishmael looking so eager to assist them and knowing that he was oblivious to what was about to happen. When Bill started speaking into the radio to the pilot of the helicopter that had been swooping over the city, she put her hand over her face and forced herself to take a deep breath.

Looking down at Ishmael, she shook her head.

He looked every bit like a Hunter. There was no way they'd be able to sneak him on the helicopter, and there was no reason for the pilot to take their word for him being safe. He was covered in blood, hands, mouth and clothing all stained with it, and he still moved about mostly on all fours rather than upright like a normal person.

If she had all the time in the world, she could teach him how to move like a human. If she had all the time in the world, she could try to teach him how to speak.

But she had little time left, and that time was now ticking down to the moment of the helicopter's arrival.

When the helicopter came, she knew she would have no choice in the matter.

They were going to have to leave Ishmael behind.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Uh oh, looks like we're leading up to what might not be such a happy ending… good news though! This isn't the end just yet. In fact, it's quite far from it… stay tuned!


	17. Scene 17: With a Vengeance

Bill was saying her name; for the moment she was content to ignore him, staring down at Ishmael as she leaned against the table the radio was sitting on. The news chopper said it was ten minutes away.

Ten minutes. That was all the time they had left.

After that, Zoey knew she might never see Ishmael again, but what was she supposed to do about it? If she stayed here, they were both as good as dead because she knew he wouldn't leave her behind. She couldn't run forever…

"Zoey!" Bill's voice was more insistent now, so she turned her head to regard him, trying not to keep too much emotion on her face. "Come back to us, rescues on its way and we can't afford to mess up now. Chances are that the infected are still chasing the helicopter around the city, so we might end up with more of them on our hands than we can handle; you ready for that?"

"I'm ready for it," she murmured in reply, checking to make sure she was at full ammo before straightening, turning her eyes back to Ishmael.

He was now looking out at the building top, his breath irregular as he tested the air for something; his eyes were wide and his entire body poised to pounce.

"Looks like he is too," Bill chuckled, stepping forward to pat Ishmael on the shoulder again before he headed out to find higher ground. It was still pouring, the wind was blowing wildly outside and every so often, the air was lit up with lightning or shaken by thunder.

It seemed a fitting end to what might have been a good story, given more time; a depressing, yet terribly fitting, end.

Zoey crouched down to face Ishmael, who turned to look at her curiously, tilting his head to the side. She managed a brief smile, which he actually returned; then leaned in and kissed him softly.

"I'm not saying goodbye, not yet," she whispered to him, his expression flickering with frustration which must have stemmed from not understanding her at all. "And even if we have to leave you behind, I'm going to fight for everything I'm worth to make sure we come back to help you."

He growled in response, putting one hand on her face. When he pulled it away and slipped outside to join the others, Zoey rubbed her cheek, not wanting to be left with a bloody handprint there. Her lips were stinging so she rubbed at those too, fighting the tears that kept threatening to fall.

She wasn't going to lose it now, not after all they had seen and done.

After all, even if they were rescued; it wouldn't mean the infection had gone away. All rescue would do was buy them time to figure out what was next, maybe find a cure.

Like they were trying to find a cure for cancer. Or for the common cold.

Shuddering, Zoey rubbed her arms with shaking hands; she took a deep breath to regain her composure, moving into the still pouring rain to join the boys at their lookout point.

Nine minutes to go…

They stood in complete silence, eyes scanning the cityscape for any sign of the helicopter, their hands on their weapons and breath heavy.

Eight minutes.

Louis shifted from one foot to the other, swallowing a few times. Somewhere in the distance, they heard the sound of howling.

Seven minutes.

The horde was starting to get closer, they could hear it clearly now, but over the sounds of the storm, they could also hear the deep pulsing of the helicopter blades.

Not much longer now. Zoey's hand strayed over to take Ishmael's in the cold, wet dark.

Six minutes…

Five…

Four…

At three and a half minutes till the helicopter arrived, the first of the infected had swarmed over the side of the building, pouring out the hatch in the roof they themselves had come out of; they all raised their guns.

It was now or never; the last stand.

Two minutes, and now they could hear the helicopter clearly; the pilot was shouting something over his megaphone that was lost in the storm and the sound of their guns firing.

It didn't matter, one way or another.

When the helicopter came into view, up over the side of the hospital, they descended from their perch, Louis tossing a bomb behind them. It was always a strange sight to behold, the infected swarming PAST them to get to an inanimate object, but it was a welcome thing right now. The few zombies not interested in the bomb were cut down easily; the path to the helicopter now clear.

It was too quick, too clean, and too easy.

Zoey should have known things couldn't end this well.

Just as they raced up the ramp towards the landing pad where the news chopper was waiting, they heard a familiar roar from above. It seemed almost impossible, so terribly unlikely, but a flash of lightning illuminated the horrible red and black burns all over the Tank's body, and she knew it was the same one from before.

The elevator crash hadn't stopped it after all. It must have survived and climbed the shaft all the way to the top to reach them.

The pilot of the helicopter stared at the tank in abject horror, as if it were his first time seeing one, but his shock passed enough for him to gesture them towards the helicopter; he shouted something that was once again lost in the storm.

The ground shook as the Tank thundered towards them, the pilot handing Bill a headset so that he could be heard. They had a short exchange then Bill swept his hand around in the air in a gesture that indicated it was definitely time to go.

Ishmael seemed to know what Zoey was thinking without her even needing to say a word. The Tank had to be dealt with, or it would bring down the chopper.

He slipped from her side after giving her a look he hoped said 'trust me,' the way she reached out for him and cried out his name not enough to keep him from racing towards the rushing infected.

The few steps she took forward were stopped short by a strong arm wrapping about her middle, dragging her backwards over the wet pavement. Fighting Francis' grip as much as she could, Zoey screamed.

…

Ishmael moved faster than the Tank could at full charge, his maneuvering was much better as well, making it easy to avoid angry swinging fists and feet. He weaved around behind the Tank, sharp claws sinking into sinew and tendons just behind the Tank's knee.

There was another bellow of pain, and the Tank swung backwards faster than Ishmael could anticipate. He managed to duck under the first one, but when the Tank spun around and used its second fist like a golf club, Ishmael couldn't move in time.

It caught him in the chest, sending him up and backwards with incredible force; a grunt of pain escaped him as all his air did at once. Stars erupted in his vision, obscuring the way the landscape suddenly spun around him, the ground rushed away wildly beneath him before he fell away into nothingness.

He was falling again.

This time, he thrust a hand out and drove his fist as hard as he could into the wall; the cold stone breaking easily and allowing his claws to catch. His descent stopped short, shoulder twisting from its socket, but with the wind still knocked out of him; he couldn't even growl. Above him, the distant sound of screaming and gunfire let him know the others were still alive.

She was still alive…

He closed his eyes, willing the helicopter to take off, willing them to get to safety without him, knowing that if he survived this; he could follow her scent no matter where she went, no matter how far. She was his female; he wasn't going to abandon her unless he was dead.

Hanging this way from the building, however, that seemed like something that might happen sooner than anticipated.

…

When Ishmael flew through the air, disappearing off the side of the building, something inside Zoey broke.

She let out a guttural, beastly howl, leaping back out of the helicopter with guns blazing; the boys had no choice but to back her up from their spots inside the chopper. The Tank could no longer charge, not since Ishmael had disabled it, but it could still throw things; it was currently working on getting a large chunk of roof off the ground.

If it threw that thing anywhere near the chopper…

Still shouting her fury and fear, Zoey emptied her gun into the beast, not caring when it began to fall forward with a weak groan. She tried to keep moving, tried to keep running, tried to reach the side of the building to see if Ishmael was alright, but again she was pulled back by unforgiving arms.

Francis shouted something to her she couldn't hear past the blood rushing in her ears; he ignored her elbows to his gut and her furious attempt to step on his toes.

She didn't want to go into the helicopter, damn it! She didn't want to leave Ishmael behind!

Inside the chopper, Bill spoke through his headset again, voice a little strained.

"I'm sorry about this…"

"What's with the zombie tagalong, anyway? Where did you find him? Did he just get infected?" The pilot responded, glancing around nervously.

"He was turned when we met him, that Hunter was different; he even had a name. He was trying to learn to speak before we got up here. We were going to request you take him with us, but now…"

"Listen, sir, I don't mean to rush you, but we need to get out of here. I had an… an incident on the way here and I don't know if I have much time. We've gotta get to the base near here as soon as we possibly can, unless any of you know how to fly a chopper?"

"I'm afraid not." Bill's eyes hadn't left the struggling Zoey and persistent Francis, his heart feeling heavy and a sinking feeling in his stomach. When Francis finally managed to get Zoey onto the chopper, they quickly closed the door; the pilot lifted off at last.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

I would like to thank UlluoaNicanor profusely for being my beta-reader. *glee!*You did such a great job fixing my issues with commas in this chapter. Hehe…


	18. Scene 18: Resignation

"You bastards! You bastards! You left him behind!" Zoey struggled she was being firmly held in place by the seat belts and also by Francis who sat in stony silence, face grim.

"Zoey, please calm down!" Louis shouted, his cheeks wet with more than just the rain. "It wasn't an easy choice, but we had to-"

"You had to what? Abandon him? Leave him there to die? What if he was still alive, what if he didn't fall?" The girl was sobbing hysterically, but the fire in her eyes proved even in this moment she wasn't helpless. She looked about ready to transform herself into a one man army, hijack the chopper and fly back with guns blazing.

"Zoey." Bill's voice was the only one that was calm, but it did nothing to soothe her. "There was nothing we could have done; we had to leave when we did, or none of us would have been able to."

"What do you mean old man?" Francis muttered, the barely bridled rage in his voice fairly radiating from his entire body. He had kept shooting as long as Zoey had, even after they knew the Tank was dead, and that surprised Bill.

He didn't know the biker had cared so much about Ishmael.

"The pilot's been bitten, he doesn't know if he's immune so we don't have the time for a rescue mission."

The air in the chopper became that much more tense, even Zoey calmed down enough to look nervously out a window at the city swiftly passing below.

"Where's the base at?" Francis asked, releasing Zoey now that she wasn't squirming and thrashing about.

"He said it's not far from here, I just hope that after all this horse shit we get there in time. When we get there perhaps we can put together a team-"

"Do you really think they're gonna risk life and limb to go back and get him?" Francis growled, leaning forward in his seat. "Do you think they're gonna waste their resources? They probably won't even give us the time of day when we get there; we'll just be a bunch of people who got damn lucky."

"But what if I'm right about that kid, huh?" Bill shot heatedly back. "What if Ishmael is the answer to all of this going away? We at least owe him a proper burial if he didn't make it."

Louis and Zoey kept silent, watching the exchange with wide eyes.

"They wouldn't believe us if we told them about him." Francis' voice was quiet again, his expression so dark it was almost frightening. "I didn't believe it myself and I saw it… I saw it, old man." He sat back in his seat slowly, exhaling and looking up at the roof of the helicopter. They could all feel it descending now, the sensation a little unnerving.

When the chopper landed, they didn't waste time getting out; they stepped onto grass and looked up as the blades stopped rotating, the pilot didn't come out of the cockpit. He beckoned to them with one hand as he sat still in the pilot's seat; Bill approached him first, pulling his headset off.

"Base is… up ahead." The pilot pointed, slumping in his seat slightly, breath ragged. He looked pale, sweat shining on his face and blood staining his lips, eyes bloodshot. "Go on, get out of here. Tell them… tell them… you were my last run."

There was a vivid bite mark on his arm, the blood that was smeared all over the cockpit must have belonged to whoever had given it to him. Zoey stared for a long moment, then reached out and offered him her pistol. He laughed weakly and shook his head.

"Couldn't… even if I tried. Can't… hold it much longer. You do… you do it." He let out a strange choking, growling noise; shaking his head furiously.

Bill wasn't the type to hesitate; there was something about this situation that urged him not to let Zoey do this deed. He reached over and pried the gun from her hand, swinging it up easily and putting a bullet between the pilot's eyes, Francis jumped and letting out a shout while Zoey just stared in shock at him.

"Had to be done." Louis murmured softly behind them, reaching over to put his hand on the barrel of Francis' shotgun. "Had to be done, man."

"Why did you-" Zoey began, Bill turned to her and holding up a hand to silence her.

"Right now, you would have done it with revenge in you, Zoey, and I don't want you having to live with that guilt chewing at your guts for the rest of your life," he said softly, shouldering his assault rifle and handing her pistol back to her.

She took it in trembling fingers, the look on her face telling him everything he needed to know.

…

…

…

Contrary to what Francis believed, the people at the base took them in with open arms; immediately rushing them to the hospital they had set up in a large tent to get checked out. Their battered, blood stained appearance and the news of the pilots death made the jubilation lessen only slightly; the few people in the base obviously pleased that there were other immunes out there.

Most of the people in the base, which was barricaded and protected heavily, didn't even know if they were immune, but steps were being taken to make sure there wasn't an outbreak. If there was, they'd know very quickly; the way the infection had been mutating, it was taking much less time for the change to occur.

If someone in this base started changing, they all knew what to do.

One hot shower and a good meal later, Zoey found herself in a tent she was to share with other survivors, her hands were still shaking; the lingering rage at leaving Ishmael behind having yet to disappear. It took her less than ten minutes after meeting the other women she was sharing the tent with to go and ask to be moved into the tent with her boys. After all of this, and even as angry as she was, she couldn't stand being without them.

She didn't feel safe without them.

The appointed leader of the base was reluctant to agree to let her stay in a co-ed tent, explaining to her that incidents between men and women on the base had cropped up already, but she was adamant that she would be fine in their company. When he heard how long the four of them had been travelling together and what they had been through, he finally caved.

Packing her things helped her blow off a little steam, but Zoey couldn't get the sick feeling out of her stomach. The Tank had flung Ishmael away like a rag doll, but the Hunter had survived so much before. It was hard not to think that he had somehow survived his ordeal, harder still to think about him being all alone out there with no clue of where they went.

If and when they found him again, she hoped he had it in him to forgive her; she would make sure to let him know it wasn't her fault.

Bill seemed surprised to see her when she walked in; backpack stuffed with everything the people here had given her. They stood regarding one another in silence before Bill at last offered her a smile and gestured her inside.

Francis and Louis were watching a small television they had been given, the former standing up quickly when she entered the room while the latter just cheerfully welcomed her back and offered her his place on the bed they had been sitting on.

Zoey sat with a forced smile, the tension beginning to slowly melt away. Rage was replaced with shame; hatred with guilt. She knew these boys better than that by now. They didn't leave Ishmael just to spite her; she should have known better than to think that in the first place. Bill wasn't the type to make rash decisions, Francis and Louis weren't sheep to be herded; they wouldn't blindly follow the old man's orders without questioning them.

She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes, dragging her fingers through her hair.

The realization did the opposite of what she had hoped. Instead of making Zoey feel better, now she just felt that much worse.

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Drawing close to the epic conclusion… Thanks again for all the reviews and support and interest I have been receiving! I actually got inspiration today for another story once this whole thing is done, I hope you'll all keep an eye out for that one, too!


	19. Scene 19: 100 Percent Completion

"What is this?"

The question came from the entrance of the tent; Louis' voice was gentle yet slightly amused. Zoey turned her head to regard him with a smile, beckoning him into the room to join her. When he came to sit beside her on her bed, she turned the song she had been listening to up a little more and leaned back, sighing.

"Bill says I'm looking for affirmation of life," she explained, Louis arched an eyebrow. "He said… he said that it's not alright to feel angry and bitter; but it is alright to grieve. He pointed out to me that yeah, I'm young, and there will be other boys."

"But?" Louis murmured, Zoey giving him a funny look. "I sense a 'but' in this statement… 'You're young, and there will be other boys, BUT-'" He opened his mouth and held his hand out to her, willing her to complete the sentence.

"But there will never be other boys like Ishmael," Zoey finished quietly, looking away from him and back at the CD player she had managed to snag.

"Who sings this song, anyway?" Louis refrained from touching her, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, but thought she looked like she could use a hug or a pat on the shoulder or something.

"Hanson."

"… Seriously?" They looked at one another; beginning to snicker which soon reached a crescendo of laughter. Francis and Bill returning to the tent to find them laying together on the bed, clutching their stomachs with tears streaming down their faces; laughing like they would never stop.

…

Three days passed since Zoey returned to normal, five days since their roof top rescue; the survivors had finally found their lives picking up a content routine around the base.

Bill often assisted the leaders with battle tactics or security measures; his experience both in the war and in the city being a great asset to them. Francis made friends with some of the others there; playing poker and pool in the evenings to wind down.

Louis assisted in technical stuff: keeping things working and even managing to rig up a network and the internet on some of the computers in the base much to the delight of the younger tenants.

Zoey, on the other hand, kept mostly to herself when she wasn't spending time with her boys. She spent a lot of time walking around the base, humming or singing to herself, but a smile was never far from her face. She would sometimes join Louis and some of the younger men while they played video games, laughing at their jokes and telling awful ones of her own.

It was almost as if she had made the choice not to grieve for Ishmael, but to celebrate him instead. When asked why she was so happy, she would smile and shake her head; no amount of prying able to get the real reason out of her. Bill didn't push it, Francis did relentlessly, and Louis poked and prodded, but didn't push too far, not wanting her to get uncomfortable.

The depressing Hanson music disappeared to be replaced with happier, more upbeat songs; one in particular able to be heard playing in their tent over and over again.

Bill frowned about it at first, but decided the girl needed to deal in her own ways.

"The part of you that's part of me will never die, will never leave… and it's nobody else's but mine," Zoey sang softly across the tent as they readied for bed on the fifth day; cheerfully making her bed while wearing the pink pyjamas they had managed to find for her.

Louis chuckled, Francis rolled his eyes, but Bill remained silent.

It didn't seem fair that the three men who were obviously crazy about Zoey, were around her at most times; yet she seemed stuck on the one that had come to the party late and left before last call.

Perhaps he just didn't know how young women worked anymore.

…

"I think we lost them."Lungs heaving, a woman crawled out of the hole at the top of the ladder; glancing around at the barren roof of the hospital. The sun was beginning to set, and they were so high up that they couldn't hear the sound of the infected from below; which was a blessing in her books. "It's clear."

"Good, move. I want to get out there and maybe sit down for a minute; whoever busted up the elevator is going to eat bullets when I find them. Fuck." A man's voice filtered from below her, and she smirked, dragging herself out of the hole. She stretched and admired the sunset for a minute, hearing him huffing a little behind her as he struggled up to join her.

"Damn, nice view." She murmured, receiving a grunt of irritation in reply, she chuckled and shrugged it off. "There's the landing pad, let's try and find a radio."

As she hopped down from the platform they now stood on, he paused, looking around very carefully. He wasn't about to take any chances with an ambush up here, not after they had narrowly escaped the horde below. Something else had distracted them, causing them to rush away; but there was no reason to drop their guard just yet.

Karma had a funny way of kicking you in the teeth when everything is going well.

"Found one!" His female companion shouted from across the roof, he hurried down to join her with a smile splitting his face.

"Good job. Alright…"

As he contacted the helicopter pilot, she wandered off to take a look at the damage that had been done to the roof: There was the corpse of a giant, mutated infected they had come across a few times and plenty of the normal infected scattered about as well.

The big one was covered in burns, and smelled worse than anything she had ever smelled before so she kept her distance; her head suddenly snapped to one side and her gun was raised when she heard something from over the edge of the building.

"What is it?" Her partner called, his gun also raised, a look of panic on his face. "What is it?!"

"I think…" She began, creeping towards the source of the noise. There was another noise, almost like delirious laughter, and she frowned. "I think it might be a survivor."

"Another one? Up here?" He came out of the building with the radio, moving cautiously towards her. Both of them pausing at the edge of the building, but only the woman dared to look over. "What is it?"

When she looked downwards, the first thing she saw was a face mottled with infection, blood stained and exhausted; the eyes pleading with her. She swallowed a few times, hand moving to the safety on her gun, both the humans startling when the unthinkable happened.

"Hnn. H-hnnk…" The Hunter panted for breath, letting out a soft growl. "H-hellll…p."

…

…

…

Author's Note!!

Think of this ending as the perfect ending to a video game sorta deal… it's a little teaser-type thing that leaves it open ended for a sequel.

What's that; a sequel you say?

Yes, that's right! A sequel! I love my cliffhangers, but I'm no monster! I wouldn't leave you hanging like poor Ishmael here…

Thanks for reading; I hope you will continue to do so when the adventures of the survivors and Ishmael continue!


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